FusionFall: Galactic Fuse
by Mizz Brainiac
Summary: "The entire universe is in desperate need of your aid. Please consider." -addressed to Dexter of DexLabs
1. The Letter

**Alright, I have a bunch of things I need to establish before I start writing this fanfic. I suppose I ought to put them in a list.**

**1.) First off, I have never played FusionFall, so please excuse any impossible scenarios and mistakes as far as cast/roles-of-cast/setting/ages/plot/etc.**

**2.) No nanos. There convenient in the game, but I don't see the point in using them in a story.**

**3.) Just about all of the OCs (there are quite a lot) are all from one of my original stories.**

**4.) Ben Tennyson has the appearance and alien transformations of the Ben Tennyson off of Ben 10: Alien Force.**

**5.) Lastly, this fiction takes place after the Fusion War is over and Lord Fuse has moved on. **

**On with the fiction!**

_**Chapter 1: The Letter**_

It had been a year after the merciless attacks from Lord Fuse, and the green menace had moved on to some unknown territory. As the citizens of Earth strived to rebuild what had been lost and destroyed, one question haunted their minds.

Would he return?

That simple question had forced anxiety down upon many good warriors that had taken part in the Fusion War but it affected one the most. Not a man, but a boy.

After a long hard year of reconstruction, fourteen-year-old scientist finally had the chance to partake in a much needed rest. He kicked his boots off, removed his lab coat and sat on the side of his bed. He patted the welcoming comforter. He removed his thick-rimmed glasses, and blinked his drowsy blue eyes a couple times. In no rush, he slid under the covers of his bed and cut off the lamp on his nightstand. His head, covered in thick red hair, was gently laid on the pillow and a look of peaceful content splashed over his face like a wave.

Just as soon as that wave of well deserved relief covered him, a loud beeping from somewhere down below could be heard for miles. Dexter's closed eyes shut tighter, and he cringed. As if trained to do so, he threw off the blankets and leapt to his feet. He put on his lab coat and boots in record timing, and in a matter of seconds, was running down the staircase to his elaborate, secret laboratory.

"Computress! What is the meaning of this alarm?" he demanded as his boots clacked against the metal floor.

His faithful computer system that had been moved to his underground laboratory after the fusion war stood several yards before him as a humanoid, female robot. The alarms dissipated as she turned to face him. She looked to her creator. "We have an intruder in Quadrant III of Sector Alpha."

_Intruder?_ Dexter thought as his mouth opened in surprise. His facilities were impenetrable! How could _anyone _have gotten through?

Before the war, he would have assumed it was Mandark with another one of his futile attacks to destroy Dexter's laboratory or steal some of his technology. But now, his mind immediately jumped to the worst of conclusions. Perhaps a mass of fusion spawns or his fusion replica. Or any other fusion duplicate of an organic being for that matter.

Quickly, Dexter swiped a null-void laser off and began to race towards Computress's encrypted coordinates. As he ran, he thought. _Quadrant III of Sector Alpha. . . That's where I stashed the fusion samples!_

He heard the crashing of glass in the near distance and quickened his pace. His hand tightened firmly around the null-void laser. As he whirled around the corner of one large invention, the life-size prototype for the exo-suit that assisted him in dodgeball, he skid to a halt. There was a rather good sized hole in the roof of his lab, allowing darkness and moonlight from the world above to seep down on the redheaded scientist and into his laboratory. Beneath the hole, black marks traced out a large star with many points as though an explosion had taken place.

Dexter's eyes darted back and forth as he searched for the intruder. He noted that a vial of an acidic, yellow substance had been the crash he had heard and the substance was now burning through the floor. But that was not his main concern. He watched as a shadow moved behind him. His finger placed gently onto the trigger of the null-void, and he whirled around, his lab coat swooshing around him.

A boy appearing to be only sixteen yet nearly a foot and a half taller than the young scientist stood dignifiedly before Dexter. He wore a black and white uniform that resembled something Dexter had seen off of Star Trek.

"Dexter of DexLabs?" the dark-haired boy quizzed.

"Who are you?" Dexter demanded, putting on his best emotionless expression.

"That's not important," he dismissed the question quickly, "Are you Dexter of DexLabs?"

The redhead countered, "That isn't important either."

The older boy stifled a sigh and replied, "I'm Jacen Tyner, Supreme Commander of the Gamma Agency."

"The Gamma Agency?" One of Dexter's eyebrows rose quizzically.

"You answer my question first," Jacen ordered. "Are. You. _Dexter of Dexlabs?_"

Dexter stared at him, his blue eyes locking with the intruder's brown. For a while, it was a stare-off between the two of them. Finally, Dexter admitted, "I am."

Jacen Tyner pulled a cylinder-shaped machine out of a pack strapped to the side of his belt. The redhead's grip on his null-void became even tighter, ready for an incoming attack.

Nonchalantly, the older teen informed, "I have a message for you."

Keeping his curiosity contained, Dexter eyed the odd, tubular container suspiciously. Jacen rolled his eyes and placed his hand on the end of the tube. With a quick jerk of the wrist, the cap of the high tech container popped off, and Jacen reached inside. He pulled out an ordinary, old envelope and held it out for Dexter to take.

Dexter stretched out his gloved hand and took the cream-colored envelope. He looked it over for a return address of some sort. Strangely though, it had no address of any sort inscribed on it. His eyes jumped over the top of the letter to look at his even stranger, uninvited guest. The dark-haired, self-proclaimed Supreme Commander gave a quick solute and kicked his heels together. Doing so, rockets activated at the bottom of his black, military-style boots. He blasted off before Dexter got the chance to question him further.

Dexter stared after the smoke trail that led out the large hole in his ceiling with an unreadable expression on his face. It was not unreadable because he was masking his emotions, but because there was such a jumbled mess of stress, irritation, confusion, and other such emotions that it was impossible to even attempt reading.

Once the older teen was a mere speck in the midnight sky, Dexter whirled around, his coat flapping behind him, and marched off.

"Computress! Activate the automatic repair system for the ceiling of Quadrant III of Sector Alpha!"

"Yes, Dexter."

He stared down at the envelope in his purple gloved-hand and thoughts began to swarm his head. . .

**LlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLl**

Fifteen-year-old Ben Tennyson had been happily asleep in his bedroom when he received Dexter's message. It didn't take much to wake him now-a-days since during the war, he had to be ready to jump to attention at the slightest, out-of-place noise. He leapt to his feet at the sound of an incoming video transmission on his computer. Without a second wasted, he sat down in front of the monitor and clicked the accept transmission button. The face of a familiar redheaded scientist Ben had miraculously managed to befriend appeared on the screen. He looked troubled, as though he had laid eyes on Ghost Freak.

"What's up, Dex?" Ben asked in a failed attempt at being slightly optimistic.

"I require your presence at my laboratory," the oh-so familiar Russian accent rang through the speakers and into Ben's ears, "_Immediately_."

Ben cocked his head a bit, "What for?" He glanced at the time. "It's, like, 1 a.m. Everything alright?"

"_No_, everything is _not _alright," Dexter replied curtly. His frustration was not aimed towards Ben though. His mind was obviously elsewhere calculating something that seemed impossible to the average human mind—as usual. "I have rather disturbing news that I would much rather discuss with you in person."

It was not a request, nor was it a suggestion. It was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, a command. Ben restrained his groans of exhaustion that was gradually starting to set in as he nodded quickly. "Sure thing. Be there in a sec."

He pressed the escape key and before Dexter could add anything else, the transmission was disengaged. If Ben had done this anytime before he had befriended the peculiar young scientist, Dexter would've thrown a temper tantrum and most likely ripped the shape-shifting hero's head off when he arrived. But, Ben was still not in the safe zone. He could very likely receive such punishment during arrival; it simply depended on the mood of his redheaded companion.

As Ben raced out onto the midnight street and morphed into the speediest alien he could think of—Jetray—he began to wonder what this disturbing news that Dexter wanted to discuss with him could possibly be. The young scientist's current mood was enough to disturb him. Though he had merely got a glance of Dexter through the computer's monitor, he could tell that the founder of DexLabs was not himself. He looked as though he were an unfortunate, young child who just so happen to lay eyes on a rated R horror film. The thought made Ben's skin crawl.

Ben landed outside of Dexter's seemingly-ordinary home. With a green flash, his red-skinned, bat-like appearance morphed back into a seemingly-ordinary teenager's appearance. With a sense of impending doom playing dodgeball in his stomach, he approached the door. He reached out with the arm that carried the valuable alien technology, and as he prepared to knock, the ground beneath him disappeared.

The rug he had been standing on had slid back, and he was plummeting down a spiraling, curving, jerking shaft. He landed flat on his back in the expansive laboratory that was in Dexter's possession. Speaking of the devil, he loomed over Ben with a dark, troubled expression.

"No need in waking my guardians," he noted with his mouth a grim line.

With a grunt of pain, Ben sat up and rubbed the back of his head. "Right. Mind giving me a bit of warning next time?"

"My apologies," Dexter said, turning on his heel and marching towards his precious super computer's monitor.

Ben lurched to his feet and followed after him. He noticed that before the monitor was a metal table with a small stack of paper and an envelope atop it. Simultaneously, he noticed as Dexter cringed at the sight of it. The young scientist took the papers cautiously held them out to Ben.

"Read," was his only command.

Obediently, Ben took the papers and read with the curiosity of a thousand young toddlers.

_Sent by Gabriel Sevin_

_Addressed to Dexter of DexLabs,_

_It has come to my attention that you lead the attack force on Earth against the Fusion. If that is incorrect, feel free to correct me. The massive amount of citizens of Galaxy Beta desperately requires your assistance. More specifically, your knowledge and experience with such a deadly adversary._

_I am not requesting that you come in person to assist the Allied Forces of Galaxy Beta (AFGB), but background knowledge on the Fusion would be very helpful. I know that you are very busy, especially with all the reconstruction that Earth requires, but I beg you consider the AFGB. _

_Galaxy Beta sister's the galaxy you Earth humans call the Milky Way (the proper intergalactic term for it is the Galaxy Gamma). Earth is not close enough to be directly affected by this attack against Galaxy Beta, but in time, it shall cause the entire universe to fall apart._

_I suppose you are wondering how the Fusion could attack something as massive as a galaxy. I believe I should inform you that the Planet Fusion you dealt with on Earth was just one of the many. If you continue onto the photo on the next page, you will understand what I mean by that._

Ben's hands trembled slightly with anxiety as he sent the first page to the back of the stack and looked at the photo that took up the entire second page. He staggered back and luckily grabbed the control desk with one hand to steady himself.

Trillions of green dots surrounded a mass of other dots including planetary systems, starts, etcetera forming a gargantuan green circle. So many Fusion Planets, so many masses of fusing, green evil. Ben had to struggle to keep his mind straight with this massive overload.

He couldn't bear to read the rest of the letter, but he felt he had to. These people, or aliens, needed help.

Ben reluctantly changed the page with uncontrollably shaking hands.

_I know that was a tremendous shock to you; it shocked me as well when I first saw it. You see Earth was in the way of one of the multitude of Fusion Planets' trajectory. Its first and only instinct was to attack and fuse. It did not expect the forces of Earth to be as powerful and strong-willed as you all proved yourselves to be._

_I doubt that this multitude of vile green has done anything along the lines of this in all recorded history. It is very likely that the Fusion had been planning this. The destruction and fusing of an entire galaxy would make a Fusion mass so huge, so enormous that it would have a gravitational force of its own so powerful, it would pull the entire universe towards it. That is a nightmare all its own. I said before that this would not affect Earth directly, but once the gigantic mass of Fusion Matter is formed. . . There is no hope for any civilization or planetary system in the universe._

_Now that you see the desperation of the situation, I plead that you would think about any means possible of preventing this catastrophe. I do not promise safety if you so chose to come personally to assist the AFGB, but I do so solemnly swear to do everything in my power to have you and any companions or teammates you chose to bring along kept under safe and heavy guard. The universe is in desperate need of your aid. Please consider._

Ben laid the stack on the table and closed his eyes tightly; he pinched the bridge of his nose to comprise the building pressure in his head. Now he understood why Dexter seemed so frightened, so shaken. If someone had sent Tennyson a letter saying that the entire universe was in jeopardy, he would appear the same.

The brunette opened his eyes and glanced at his peculiar young friend. He was glad to see that he was not the only one slightly trembling in fear and shock. Their eyes locked and exchanged a look of understanding. They were going to do everything in their power to stop this massive threat.

**There's chapter one. Now isn't that a bombshell? Please R&R! And if you feel there is anything (as far as according to the actual game) that you ought to correct me on, please do so in your reviews.**


	2. The Recruits

**Now were did I leave off? Oh right, the entire fate of the universe could very well be in Dexter's purple-gloved hands. **

_**Chapter 2: The Recruits**_

Finally, Ben Tennyson broke the silence. "How are we going to get back in contact with him?"

Dexter adjusted his glasses, buying himself a bit more time to think. "Well, there was not a return address on the envelope, but on the back of the last page, there was a code that could be used to link with this . . . Gabriel Sevin's . . . video transmission system through computer I'm assuming."

Ben nodded and thought for a moment. "Why would he send us a letter if he had a way to link with us through video transmission?"

"Perhaps he did _not_ have a way," Dexter suggested. "Or perhaps, a letter delivered directly and personally would've been safer and would have more guarantee that I received it."

Ben leaned his back against the wall and sighed. "So what're we going to do?"

"First, we shall be rallying what remaining fighters from the Fusion War here on Earth that are willing to volunteer," the redhead said. "Then, we get in touch with Gabriel and fully assess all of our options in the situation."

Tennyson considered that reasonable. "So, which of us will be responsible for rallying said fighters?"

The corners of Dexter's firm-line-of-a-mouth twitched into what could have possibly been a slight small. "The one who has the better social skills and is not capable of setting up a video transmission link between two severely distant computers while simultaneously gathering all null void technology and any other DexTech from around the globe."

"That _would_ make sense," Ben mused, humored.

Dexter immediately snapped into his world-leader mode and began to work a mile-a-minute with his super computer. After a moment of working swiftly and furiously, he glanced at Ben. "What are you still standing there for? You have work to do, Mr. Tennyson."

"Right," Ben nodded. He glanced around, "Urm . . . where's the exit?"

**LlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLl**

A few hours later, Ben Tennyson had succeeded in rallying the volunteers to help with this vital mission. The Powerpuff Girls had been more than willing to help and of course their father/creator Professor Utonium would not be letting them set off on such a perilous escapade without going along; Sector V of the KND volunteered to do their part; and Gwen had somehow achieved in convincing Kevin into volunteering along with her. Ben was somewhat satisfied that after such hard times, he would successfully round up eleven volunteers to go through it all over again just in a higher degree. He would've been more satisfied if there were more that would've gathered with them, but this was a pretty good number considering they had no idea how much transport this Gabriel Sevin could supply them with. After all, he had only requested Dexter's knowledge and experience. Altogether that would make thirteen from Earth's forces that were more than willing to assist in this intergalactic war.

Dexter had put up little protest when Ben showed up with all eleven of the volunteers at his front door, most likely from the extensive pressure he was probably feeling. Ben couldn't imagine the migraine such massive amount of dependence on one fourteen-year-old could cause said fourteen-year-old. Not to say that he didn't feel sympathetic for his genius of a friend.

Before the large monitor of Dexter's super computer, the volunteers gathered.

Dexter commenced in pacing, his hands clasped tightly behind his back, as he gave what could very well be considered the total opposite of a pep talk.

"You _all_ must understand the great risks we are taking," he began. "The odds are stacked high against us. We are leaving this planet to assist in an intergalactic war and it is most likely that not all of us will be returning. Then again, all of us could. We are off to fight on unfamiliar ground or space. These people desperately require our services; not only do they need our services, but everyone in the entire universe. If all of us together combined with the Allied Forces of Galaxy Beta fail in defeating the trillions of Fusion Planets locking into their positions around Galaxy Beta at this very moment, then the entire universe is doomed. I thank you all for volunteering for such a duty."

Ben thought that if Dexter had intended on draining the color from every face in the room and making the fear show in even the eyes of Buttercup and Wallabe Beatles (a.k.a. Numbuh 4), then he succeeded. But then it dawned on Tennyson. Dexter _had_ to give that speech. There was no room for any of these volunteers to get cocky. If they did, it was very likely that each and every one of them would've been slaughtered in the upcoming war. They all had to keep their heads straight and remember what was important. Otherwise, it would mean the universe.

Tennyson swallowed the growing lump in his throat and spoke up, "Did you get in touch with Gabriel Sevin?"

Dexter shook his head. "I managed to set up the transmission link, but I preferred to wait until all of you arrived. You all have a right to be present during this."

The short scientist locked eyes with everyone in the room before looking to Ben. They both nodded. Dexter turned around and set up the communication system. The screen fizzled with black and white pixels as the static of the transmitter rang through their ears. Then a image formed.

It was a girl in a grey sweater with white cuffs and a white collar. Her long black hair reached halfway down her back and her bands were sprinkled across her forehead and just above her crystal colored eyes. She smiled at them all, recognizing the unmistakable figure of Dexter.

"Gabriel?" Ben asked, a bit skeptical.

Humor flashed in her eyes. "Oh no, I'm not Gabriel. I'm Jone Aral of the planet Mindora. He's my second in command. Gabriel Sevin isn't able to talk with you right now, for we're having some difficulties. I'll be speaking with you instead."

Dexter questioned, "Is it true that there are multitudes of Fusion Planets surrounding this galaxy of yours?"

"Unfortunately so," she grimaced, "I could show you live footage if it would be more efficient in convincing you. We have satellites station at every corner of Galaxy Beta monitoring those monsters."

Ben and Dexter traded glances. The eleven volunteers behind them had yet to see the picture they had received in the letter. They had merely heard the story. Dexter gave a brief nod. Jone's face disappeared and several small squares each filled with footage from a different satellite appeared in her place.

The images made the stomachs of both Dexter and Ben wretch. There were planets larger than the one they had come in contact with on Earth. Some pulsed as though a living breathing creature. Ben glanced back at the eleven who were all gasping or gaping. The sight was unbelievable.

The image switched back to Jone. Noting the expressions on their faces she apologized, "I'm very sorry you had to see that. But that is what is going on as we speak."

Dexter shook his head and composed himself. "What means of transportation would you supply us with, Ms. Aral?"

She seemed taken aback. "You would like to join us?"

"Yes," he nodded, "We all would."

"Oh," she blinked. "Well, that's good news. We're in need of some new recruits. How many will be joining the Allied Forces of Galaxy Beta?"

"Thirteen," Dexter replied simply.

She paused thoughtfully, "In that case—"

"Ohhhhhhh, Dex-ter!"

If it were possible, Dexter paled. The shrill, sing-song voice could only belong to. . .

"DeeDee," the redheaded scientist said in a barely audible voice.

A look of curiosity washed over Jone's face as a tall, gangly blonde dressed in pink pajamas leapt out into her view. She looked at her younger brother with whom she shared neither similar characteristics nor any common interests. "It's past your bedtime."

Dexter's pale face immediately flushed a brilliant shade of fuchsia. His accent thickened as he said, "DeeeeeDee, how did you get in here? I made certain that the doors were impenetrable."

"I got in the same way I always do," DeeDee shrugged, practically oblivious to the fact that she had interrupted a very serious conversation. _Practically_. She looked to Jone and asked with her usual sing-song voice, "Ooo, who's she?"

Jone politely introduced herself. "I'm Jone Aral, ranking in highest of command in the Allied Forces of Galaxy Beta."

"Wow, that's a long name," DeeDee noted, "I'll just call you Jone."

"Erm, yes, I suppose you would." The dark-haired girl angled her eyebrows in a puzzled fashion. She looked to Dexter, "I suppose this is another recruit that will be coming with you to help fight against the Fusion Mass?"

Dexter quickly replied, "No."

Simultaneously, DeeDee jumped to saying, "Sure!"

The two exchanged blue eyed glares as their typical sibling rivalry flared. In a pouting fashion, DeeDee huffed and crossed her arms. "You never let me do anything."

"DeeDee, I can assure you it would be best for all of us if you stay here and . . ." his mind raced, "look over reconstruction while we're gone."

"Oh, please let me come, Dexter," DeeDee squatted to her brother's size and clasped her hands together. "Oh, please; oh, please; oh, _please!_"

The redheaded scientist stole a glance at Jone who watched the scene in an awkward silence. "Excuse us," he muttered, putting his hand on DeeDee's back and leading her out of Jone's viewing range and out of earshot of the volunteers. "DeeDee, you must understand. . ."

Ben immediately took Dexter's place. He understood perfectly what was going on. Dexter was trying to protect DeeDee while at the same time DeeDee was trying to protect him. Unfortunately, their tactics opposed one another greatly.

Tennyson looked to Jone and quickly said, "Fourteen of us at the most."

The corners of Jone's mouth twitched into a small smile as she nodded, "I'll send a transport cruiser to take you all to AFGB Headquarters."

She saluted Ben respectfully, and he saluted back. The screen went black. No sooner had the image disappeared than did Dexter march back towards the group with his hands clasped tightly behind his back. By the way his head hang and his sister's jubilant dance moves, Ben could tell that Dexter had lost the argument.

"Dext—" Ben started.

"When will that transport cruiser arrive?" Dexter cut him off.

Ben shrugged, "She didn't say."

"Mm," the younger boy acknowledged the fact he had spoken in his usual distant, troubled tone.

Ben took a step out of the way as Dexter continued walking, not even bothering to look up. The older teen glanced at Professor Utonium, a rather fatherly figure to not only Dexter but near every love-deprived child he came in contact with, and their eyes locked as they shared a look of mutual feeling. This was going to force a lot of stress upon each and every one of them. But once again, Dexter would undergo the most stress.

In Dexter's mind, things began to click into place. Without him on Earth, there had to be someone else to oversee the reconstruction of Earth and that someone was his lovely, loyal assistant, Computress. The survivors of the war were healing rather well and would soon be able to continue their lives. Of course, it wouldn't be the same, but it was good compared to all else they had been through. No one would need his presence here on Earth. Where they would need him was in the command center of the AFGB HQ watching as the Fusion Mass encroached, slowly but surely.

It was decided. He was needed elsewhere. Wherever that may be, he planned to be there. And he would be there. As soon as the cruiser arrived, of course. As he strode down into the depths of his laboratory, making sure no one could see, he allowed his true self to show. The invincible shield that had somewhat worn out over the course of the war faded like a bursting dam and the river washed the look of a child scared out of his wits onto his face.

**Poor Dex. Please review!**


	3. Galactic KND

_**Chapter 3: Galactic KND?**_

The fourteen recruits had shuffled aboard a well-sized cruiser considering the number of people it was carrying. Five kids, ages ranging from thirteen to sixteen, were manning the rather impressive—Dexter admitted—spacecraft. One of the five was a recognizable, dark-haired teen—the oldest of them all. It was the same Jacen Tyner who had delivered the letter personally to Dexter.

The other four were all part of a five-member squad (one member obviously not in attendance) called Division MS-US (acronym for 'Mississippi of the United States'). The squad-leader of said division was Nicholas Kaczynski, a boy whose bright auburn hair and yellow sweatshirt was almost as ostentatious as Dexter's hair and attire. _Almost_.

The other three were very different individuals yet seemed to collaborate nicely. The apparent second in command was the only other male, a brunette who looked as though he had jumped out of a 70's documentary for the United States Air Force with his black shades and tan flight-jacket that proudly held a Medal of Honor (most likely given to his grandfather). Donavan Wright appeared to succeed in living up to his surname by all means. He just so happened to be the one doing the most of the piloting in the alien cruiser.

Lisa Miller, a slender and muscular African-American that—Numbuh Five noticed—shared some resemblance to Cree, looked to be the one with a clear head that worked well under pressure yet also kicked butt under pressure.

Lastly, there was Chloe Sanders. She seemed to be self-absorbed at times with her flashy, expensive wardrobe and 'Oh, I broke a nail'-manner. She also didn't seem to fully realize how dangerous and fatal the situation going on around her was—that or that was just her way of dealing with the problem.

It took a matter of minutes to launch back out of Earth's atmosphere, and the passengers prepared for the long voyage ahead of them. Flying from one galaxy to the next was no simple task—not even at the speed of light as the veterans of the Fusion War soon realized. The lounging area in which said veterans were confined to was openly connected to the rather large-sized cockpit. They sat on cushioned metal seats adhered to the wall with seat belts—obviously in case of any emergency that involved the cruiser careening out of control. Jacen marched into the lounge area and looked at his guests with a slight, welcoming smile.

Supreme Commander Tyner, host of the odd veterans/recruits, said, "I hope you all are finding the accommodations to your liking."

Bubbles giggled her cliché giggle like she did when just about anyone spoke, and the polite Blossom was the first to nod and say, "Oh, yes, thank-you."

Ben and a few others nodded in agreement. Satisfied, Jacen turned to leave. Just as soon as he had, Dexter stopped him.

"Supreme Commander Tyner, would you mind explaining just what exactly _the Gamma Agency_ is now that the time is more convenient?" the redheaded scientist asked.

He turned back around and replied, "Not at all."

The older teen clasped his hands behind his back and began, "The Gamma Agency has been known by many names over the years. Sister-agency to the Beta Agency, Defenders of Earth, etcetera. But the name that would be most familiar to you all would most likely be . . . the Galactic Kids Next Door."

Immediately, Numbuh One (Nigel Uno) leapt to his feet and saluted the older boy. "Sir! It's an honor. . ."

The rest of Sector V slowly stood along side their commander. Dexter could feel a knot twist in his stomach. Kids Next Door. He had always despised associating with the KND since their technology was so primitive and their methods were so . . . childish, but the war against Lord Fuse had forced him to work with such . . . imbeciles, as he thought them to be. Dexter had succumbed to associating with them as long as they so solemnly swore to use DexTech instead of mustard guns and gumball blasters. If the Allied Forces of Galaxy Beta consisted mainly of Kids Next Door, Dexter would not be able to stand putting the fate of the universe in such . . . immature hands.

Jacen seemed to notice the look in the young scientists blue eyes. He seemed to have recognized it. As Sector V (mainly Numbuhs 1, 2, and 3) bombarded him with excited questions about what the Galactic KND was like. He pulled his out his weapon that was contained in a holster strapped to his side. It was sleek and black and at a glance resembled your average pistol that someone of military importance would be issued.

But Dexter never looked at things at a glance. It was obviously constructed of some sort of alien technology. And it appeared to fire beams generated by multiple laser cartridges inside its sleek, silver barrel. If there were ever a name for it, it would have to be 'deadly'. Definitely not like any 2x4 technology Dexter had ever laid eyes on.

Supreme Commander Tyner twirled the blaster around his finger and holstered it professionally. He nonchalantly took his eyes off of Dexter and focused on the five minor agents questioning him.

"Do you just have jurisdiction just in the Milky Way?" Nigel Uno quizzed rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Jacen nodded, "No, we have jurisdiction in the zones between Galaxy Beta and our home galaxy and we have a slight bit in Galaxy Beta, but neither is as strong as what authority we have over Galaxy Gamma."

"I see," Nigel mused, though it was partially a lie.

Kuki Sanban suddenly asked, "Do you guys fly magical unicorns? Do you have any galactic rainbow monkeys? Are there any alien rainbow monkeys?"

The supreme commander of the Galactic KND rubbed the back of his neck uneasily and let out a nervous laugh. "Heh, heh. . . No, no, and no. Sorry."

Hoagie Gilligan was the next to ask a question, "Do you use the same kind of 2x4 technology as the Kids Next Door on Earth?"

"No, actually," he replied, "Instead, we use something called 3x9 technology. It's a bit more advanced."

_A bit?_ Dexter rolled his eyes.

Numbuh 2 seemed eager to know more. "Could I see some?"

"Well, you're standing in 3x9 tech as we speak," Jacen informed. "But if you want to see something more along the lines of weaponry"—he pulled out his gun again—"you are welcome to take a look at this. Just don't shoot your eye out, kid."

Dexter noted as Hoagie's knees started to shake as though Jacen had placed the Holy Grail in his hands. Numbuh 2 removed the laser cartridges and stared at the alien technology in silent amazement. _Almost_ silent amazement.

"What is this? I've never seen anything like it," Hoagie said.

_You've never dismantled a Null-Void,_ Dexter thought. Though he had to admit the gun did seem to run on something foreign to him.

"It's called proton laser cartridges," Jacen replied, "PLC for short. Most all 3x9 weaponry fires PLC."

A sudden jerk of the ship sent everyone sprawling that was standing. The gun and PLC clattered to the metal floor. The lights flickered then went off. The lounge was lit red as the alarms blared.

"Squad-Leader Kaczynski, status report!" Jacen ordered, jumping to his feet.

"We've been hit with an ion cannon and it forced us to drop out of lightspeed," Nicholas Kaczynski replied. "We have a limited amount of air-support without power and the hyperdrive motivator was destroyed when we were forced to drop out of lightspeed."

Jacen made his way inside the cockpit and looked out the good-sized view-port. Twenty spacecrafts stood in their way. Each of them consisted of old, rugged spaceship parts (some not even matching) that were held together by nothing more but repulsive, pulsating green goo.

Dexter had walked towards the cockpit and now stood in the opening separating the lounge from the cockpit. Shocking was not quite the word he would use to describe the scene before him. More along the lines of unusual or unexpected. He knew good and well what the twenty unidentifiable crafts before them were. He had seen the oozing green matter on several different occasions, none of which would qualify as good encounters. He had grown to fervently detest what he saw before him. There was only one name for the emotionless creatures piloting, or perhaps being, the hideous excuses for spacecrafts hovering before the cruiser.

Fusions.

**Yes, this chapter was short. But I really wanted to leave off here. Please review!**


	4. Flyboys

_**Chapter 4: Flyboys**_

"Agent Wright, switch to backup electron generators," Jacen ordered. "Ion cannons can't neutralize a negative power source."

"Sir, yes, sir!" Donavan, who had turned his head at the order, turned back to face the flight controls before him.

"Agents Miller and Sanders!" the supreme commander called. "Man the ELC cannons on the flanks of this heap of junk! Remember these are heartless Fusions, not people! I want you to shoot these things down as soon as you get them in your sights!"

Lisa and Chloe saluted the commander and gave a respectful "sir, yes, sir" before running off in different directions towards the ELC [electron laser cartridge(s)] cannon control pods on either side of the cruiser.

"Kaczynski, patch me through to the command center of the Gamma Agency's intergalactic air force," Jacen commanded.

"Patching," the squad-leader said as he started up the transmission.

In a matter of seconds the face of a blonde boy the same age as the supreme commander appeared on the monitor to the right of the view port. He wore a green version of Tyner's uniform. Taken aback by the sudden appearance of the supreme commander and his expression, the blonde was a bit slow on his salute. "Sir, what seems to be the problem?"

"Admiral, if you're up to it"—though there was no point in saying such, Jacen Tyner said it anyway—"lead your Fleet to my coordinates."

"The entire Fleet, sir?"

Jacen nodded, "That consists of fifty pilots, does it not?"

"Yes, sir, but what for?"

"Fusions, Admiral Peterson. Fusions."

"Oh! The Fleet will be at your service as soon as possible, sir."

"Good. And, Admiral, these Fusions are armed with an ion cannon so ELC _only_, understand?"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

With that, the screen went blank. The supreme commander addressed Division MS-US's leader, "Kaczynski, deflector shields up to full power."

"Sir, that could drain a lot of power," Nicholas pointed.

He nodded grimly. "I know, but it's that or have our engines shot out from under us."

"Point taken, sir."

Jacen quickly turned to his passengers. "You all may want to buckle down—it's going to get rather bumpy."

Ben and the others strapped in as Dexter walked back to his seat. He checked his sister's safety harness before sitting down and securing his own. Tennyson desperately hoped that none of them had a weak stomach.

Supreme Commander Tyner looked to the pilot. "Wright, Delta Maneuver."

"Aye-aye, captain!" Donavan said.

A bunch of red laser fire suddenly showered upon them as the Fusion Spacecrafts began to down upon them. Ben's stomach, along with the stomachs of many others, flopped as the cruiser, spun to the right in a complete 360°. With expect skill, the ace pilot recovered the ship from the defensive exercise quickly, and tightened his grip around the flight controls. He cut right through the middle of the unorganized mess of Fusion Spacecrafts at top speed and grinned as he succeeded in getting the Fusions to shoot themselves with the 3x9 technology which they stole.

_Curious._ Dexter mused. _This 3x9 technology seems to be effective on the Fusions._

The tactical maneuver destroyed six of the twenty, and the ELC cannons on the cruiser took out about the same amount. Maybe they wouldn't need the Fleet. The thought entered Jacen's mind, and instantly he knew that he had doomed them all by thinking such. For shortly afterwards, the Fusion . . . split apart. It was an odd sight to say the least.

_Almost like binary fission,_ Dexter thought. _For the simplest of unicellular organisms._

Then, they split again. Each and every one of them. Forty Fusion Spacecrafts floated in space before them. Ben gulped. He noticed the ace of a pilot tense up with a look of uncertainty on his face. Only two words could appropriately describe the situation.

_Not. Good._

Jacen stiffened as a chill ran up his spine. He hadn't expected this. Underestimating the Fusions was the last thing he should've done.

"S-sir," the usually cocky ace stuttered. "What now?"

The supreme commander of the Galactic KND paused. A shadow fell across his face and he covered the growing fear in his eyes with his dark hair. "Into the asteroid field. Stall."

Donavan's jaw dropped to the floor. Asteroids? Was he crazy? Reluctantly, Donavan pulled back on the flight sticks. The ship slowly backed away and the Fusions followed. Around them, asteroids floated past.

"Use this two your advantage, Wright," Jacen ordered. "Use some classic hide and seek tactics."

Donavan, his jaw close to falling on the ground, glanced at him to see if the supreme commander was bluffing. He wasn't. The pilot gulped.

Nicholas sat down in the co-pilot seat and glanced to his officer. "You ready?"

"You want the honest answer, Nick?" he asked nervously.

"Preferably."

"No."

"Neither am I."

They were at several disadvantages. Firstly, the cruiser was about the size of five or six of the small battle jets that the Fusions had done a rather horrid job at cloning which diminished their ability to maneuver smoothly through the deathtrap known as an asteroid field. Second, they were out numbered, 1/40. Third, these things could replenish their numbers. To put their circumstances in simple terms, this was not good.

Donavan wanted to point out to the supreme commander that the asteroid field hide-and-seek tactic only worked well when you had the smaller ship. But he held his tongue. He grabbed the flights sticks and forced them to the left. The ship dipped left, under a rather large asteroid. Donavan began to wish that asteroids had a strong gravitational field so he could use the old sling-shot maneuver. True, it was the oldest trick in the manual, but he doubted sincerely that the Fusions had ever read the manual.

But alas, no. Asteroids did not have the amount of gravity needed to pull the oldest trick in the manual. He was on his own. Flight manuals had been made using the most logical and a few illogical situations. Unfortunately, this particular situation was beyond all form of illogical.

Donavan would have to make up his own tricks. No biggy, he had made up millions of flight tactics in his short lifetime. But none of them had involved Fusions.

Then, a plan dawned upon him. He could use the sling-shot maneuver. Not for its intended purpose, but still, it would be effective. The plan, of course, was reckless and overall insane. But Donavan was confident that he could pull it off. He smirked, his usual arrogant expression covering his face.

"Nick, I hope you brought an extra pair of undies," he remarked.

Nicholas glanced at him oddly. "What for?"

"You're about to wet the ones your in."

The squad-leader grimaced. _Just what I needed._

Apparently, many of the passengers in the back had heard, for the comment had successfully gained squirms from even the likes of Kevin E. Levin.

Donavan gunned the engines, and headed directly towards one of the asteroids. The Fusion Spacecrafts followed. The rear deflector shields kept them from landing a direct hit on the cruiser's outer plating.

It was true; Donavan wasn't the brightest of boys. In fact, he was just barely getting by in most all his classes. Except for math and science. Those he was passing with flying colors (pun not intended). Of course the only area in science he was really excelling in was astronomy. Luckily, that was the teacher's main objective for that year.

He did not know a thing about physics if you use the proper terms for it, but when you put him in control of a ship, he was an award winning physicist. Of course he used terms like 'that thingy', 'this doohickey', and 'that-a-way', but is genius merely based on terminology?

Nicholas gripped the arms of his seat as the cruiser's speed steadily accelerated, still on the path for a head on collision with the asteroid, so tightly that his knuckles were white. He glanced at his officer's face. He was actually going through with this.

At the last moment, Donavan changed direction, but only slightly. Barely noticeable. The cruiser's plating just barely skimmed over the coarse surface of the asteroid. He made a complete revolution around the asteroid and gunned the engines towards another asteroid forming a 120 degree angle as far as flight paths went.

The Fusion Spacecrafts did not do so well with this odd flight pattern. Many of them spiraled out of control and crashed onto an asteroid. Others didn't recover from the maneuver properly and were left disoriented.

Donavan smirked. _Ah, success_.

He repeated the maneuver with several other asteroids, and it had the same effect. _These Fusions don't catch on, do they?_

Donavan allowed the cruiser to come to a gradual halt just outside of the asteroid field. He grinned cockily and kicked his feet up on the control desk. "The pinball-maneuver. The newest trick in the manual."

Nicholas glanced back at their passengers, making sure he wasn't the only one whose face was green. He fell back into the co-pilot seat, his head hanging. Relief.

DeeDee, on the other hand, clapped her hands together. "Let's do that again!"

Dexter shot her an odd glare, as did every one of the other dazed passengers.

A few Fusion Spacecrafts emerged from the asteroid field. Donavan practically laughed, "They never learn."

Then, they split up. Several times. Forty eight Fusion Spacecrafts now hovered before them.

"What the—?" Donavan sat up straight instantly. "What the _heck!_ That—That. . . No fair!"

"The point of going into the asteroid field was to stall, not destroy," Jacen assured him. "And if those were real ships with real pilots, your pinball-maneuver would've been very effective."

"Eh," Donavan grimaced. "I'm gonna—"

Jacen raised a hand. No one was quite sure if it was to silence everyone, for in the next moment on of his five fingers lowered. Then the next.

_Four. . ._

_Three. . ._

_Two. . ._

A small spacecraft, a starglider, zoomed out in front of the cruiser and many others surrounded the huge mass of Fusion Spacecrafts.

On the screen beside the view port, an image of the blonde boy strapped into a small cockpit appeared.

"Jacen, everyone alright in there?"

"First off, Admiral, we're still on duty so formalities still apply," Jacen pointed out, "Second, yeah, everyone's still in one piece."

"Alright then, _Commander_," the blonde boy grinned. "You guys can go on; we've got these freaks handled."

Jacen shook his head fervent, "Wallis, you know I don't leave men behind. We leave when you all leave."

"What happened to formalities?" Wallis quizzed. "Sorry, but you don't have much choice in the matter, J.T., your back up generators will only last so long. You've still got a bit of a ways to go. And if my scanners are right, your hyperdrive motivator's out of whack. Lucky for you, Headquarters isn't even a lightyear away."

Jacen crossed his arms. "Peterson, who's in charge here?"

"Who has a fleet?" Wallis challenged.

Tyner's eyes narrowed. "Point taken. Alright, fine, but if you lose even one of your men, don't think I won't escort a squadron of fighter pilots here myself."

"Copy that, Commander," he saluted him with two fingers.

Jacen looked to Donavan once Fleet Admiral Wallis Peterson's image disappeared. "Take us to Headquarters, Wright."

**Yes, yes, the cartoon network characters were not mentioned as frequently as they should have been in this chapter, but I can assure you that in the next chapter they will be mentioned much more often. Specifically, Dexter.**


	5. Nathan Conwell and G7

_**Chapter 5: Nathan Conwell and G7**_

When they had finally arrived at the Allied Forces of Galaxy Beta's Headquarters, their minds were boggled at the appearance of the headquarters which just so happened to be a beyond all forms of gargantuan in size as far as floating space stations in the middle of a galaxy go. It was unbelievably massive, possibly large enough to take up half the space Earth's solar system took up.

They were split up into groups, and each and every one of them was reluctant to do so. Dexter was required to accompany Jacen Tyner alone to the command center of space station, the heart of the AFGB HQ. The location was top secret and was almost impossible to find seeing as how confusing the gigantic mass of halls and rooms were. Needless to say, Dexter was not completely willing to do so. But when Jacen allowed Ben and Ben alone to tag along as well, he finally agreed.

It amazed the two friends how much security Jacen had to override before they came anywhere near the command center. And still he had to place his hand on a scanner for it to register his print and open a series thick blast doors. Simply saying that security was tight was the understatement of the year. Finally they reached the door to the command center. Jacen put his eye close to a miniscule scanner and the door opened.

"Here you are, Mr. Dexter," Jacen motioned for them to go in. Once they walked inside, the supreme commander of the Galactic KND disappeared.

Dexter silently and inconspicuously admired the complex arrangement of monitors, scanners, and other such machinery used to supervise and monitor things going on inside the Headquarters and in the depths of space. Ben, not so inconspicuously, admired it as well. His eyes were wide with amazement as he stared at all the alien technology.

_What Kevin wouldn't give to see this!_

"Hello there," a voice greeted.

They weren't alone. Both Dexter and Ben turned to face the voice. A boy with wavy black hair and thicker than normal glasses stood in front of the largest monitor and control desk in the room. His oddest feature was the single arm-brace crutch that was strapped to his left arm. Most of his weight was on it. The fourteen-year-old boy's pale face was flushed with a welcoming smile.

"Uh, hey," Ben beamed a lopsided smile back.

Dexter jumped straight to questioning, "Are you Gabriel Sevin?"

"Oh, no. I'm waiting for the exact some person you are," the boy replied. "I've noticed that it seems everyone knows this Sevin character except for the few he requested present in his command center. By the way, my name is Conwell. Nathan Conwell."

All the while that he spoke, he had been limping towards them with his crutch. He held out his hand in a greeting.

"Dexter," Dexter introduced himself, shaking the hand.

Ben shook Nathan's hand as well. "Ben Tennyson."

"Ah, I've heard of you two," he said, recognition beaming in his brown eyes. "You helped fight off the Fusions from the only other planet besides Lev'n that fought against a Fusion attack and won. Earth, I believe."

"Yep, that's us," Ben replied.

Dexter looked at him curiously. "What is Lev'n?"

"My home planet," Nathan informed. "I helped direct the Defensive Forces of Lev'n."

"Oh." Dexter thought for a moment. When he put two and two together, it didn't equal pizza as Wallabe Beatles suspected. "It makes sense now. It's only logical to call forth two men of science that have been through war against the Fusions. I'm presuming you are a man of science, Mr. Conwell. Am I correct?"

Nathan blinked. "Why, yes. How did you guess?"

Ben would've replied something along the lines of 'Well, you look like one' seeing as the boy wore a long-sleeved white polo-shirt and blue tie neatly tucked under a dark red sweater vest. One hundred percent nerdy wardrobe in his opinion. The glasses were a bonus.

"An educated assumption," Dexter replied.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, gentlemen."

All three turned to face the door of the command center. Ben thought he had seen it all. He hadn't.

A figure stood before the closed door. His long, untamed hair was the oddest pastel shade of sea green, and his eyes were a combination of olive and bronze. His long black coat resembled both a black trench coat and black lab coat. Under his neatly folded collar was a grey turtleneck sweater, and beneath the part of the long black coat that trailed behind him as he walked were baggy jeans.

If there had ever been an inverted Dexter, this was it.

"Your. . ." Ben didn't finish his statement.

The strange seventeen-year-old eyed Ben. "Gabriel Sevin? Yes, that is correct, Mr. Benjamin Tennyson. Thank-you all for responding to my letters, by the way."

"Erm. You're, uh, welcome," Ben flashed a nervous smile.

"I would shake your hands, but I'm not one for physical contact," Gabriel said. His eyes narrowed cleverly as he quizzed the two geniuses before him. "Could either of you tell me why?"

Dexter was the first to reply. "You're a computer-generated projection."

"And how do you know this?" he asked.

"The most obvious reason is because your boots are hovering nearly a centimeter above the ground," Nathan pointed out.

Dexter added, "Second, the door neither opened nor closed in your arrival."

"Lastly, there is a stream of bits and bytes coursing through your eyes and a faint aura of it around you," Nathan finished.

Gabriel clapped his hands together. Ben found it odd that he wore his grey gloves tucked beneath the sagging, folded sleeves of his coat. "Bravo. Your reputations precede the both of you."

The makings of a smile twitched at the corners of Dexter's mouth but he brushed it away quickly and kept his stern expression. Nathan's warm smile widened slightly.

"Thank-you, Mr. Sevin," he thanked.

"You're welcome," Gabriel nodded. "Now, I am not simply a computer-generated projection."

The faintest bit of confusion flashed in Dexter's eyes but only Ben noticed.

The strange boy finished, "I _am_ the computer."

"If I may interject," Nathan began, "I find that rather impossible seeing as your features are much too human, and your movements are much too fluent as though you are a living being."

"Two excellent deductions, Mr. Conwell," Gabriel complemented, "Nearly one hundred years ago, I was just as human as you three. But that is another story for another day. The point I wanted to get across is that I see, know, and control everything on this station so if you have any rivalries or form any rivalries with anyone aboard Headquarters, they will _not_ be tolerated. This is your only warning. And this rule will be carried out the strictest on the two of you because you will be spending most of your time in this command center and there is no room for childish pranks or sabotage. Do I make myself clear?"

All three of them nodded. Dexter liked this Gabriel Sevin. Strict, mature, no-nonsense-type when it came to this war, and practically straight to the point.

Ben asked, "What about me? I'm not a genius' I'm more of a fighter. I just followed Dex."

Dexter winced at the use of his nickname in the middle of a very serious conversation. If it had been anyone other than Ben, he may have instantly vaporized them. But Ben was one of his few friends, so Dexter was required to tolerate such use of 'Dex' by his conscience.

"You, Mr. Tennyson, will spend most of your time training the potential soldiers gathered in this station before the war ignites. After the war starts, you will be spending your time on the frontlines," Gabriel replied.

Ben flashed a lopsided grin of contempt. If he desired to be anywhere during this war, it was on the frontlines doing what he discovered that he did best—kicking Fusion butt.

"Of course, you will need a bit of pilot training," Gabriel added, "Donavan Wright and Horatio Stellar will be the ones to lead you threw those exercises. If you wish, I could call someone to escort you to the proper area, so you can begin on pilot training immediately."

The offer enticed the shape shifter. Ben was dying to get his hands on the controls of one of those awesome looking stargliders, but he hesitated. Tennyson glanced at Dexter who nodded his approval. But he wasn't searching for the redhead's approval. He was wondering if it would be a good idea to leave the stubborn scientist alone. Dexter's blue eyes narrowed which was a sign as obvious to Ben as though it had been spelled out with fluorescent lights. Dexter knew that Ben was rather eager to start training now that this Gabriel fellow was offering and if Ben refused the offer just to be a self-proclaimed bodyguard to Dexter, Dexter would not be happy to say the least.

"Sure," Ben shrugged. He was shrugging off his paranoia. If they really wanted to kill them, why wouldn't they have done it earlier? And besides, these guys needed their help. Why would they murder the person who was supplying them with knowledge and experience?

**LlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLl**

Ben was led into what appeared to be the Hangar Deck. His guide scampered off to do another job and left him alone. The Hangar Deck was surprisingly empty. This must've been one of the rather inactive ones seeing as there must have been millions aboard this ship.

"Hey, Don, what've we got here?"

Ben whirled around to see a redheaded boy standing several yards behind to his right. Now there was an obvious difference in the red hair Ben knew and this guy's. This guy's did not have an orange or a blonde tinge to it. It was strictly, blindingly red. His eyes were a fiery orange which added to his odd appearance. Ben was going to have to accept the fact that everyone in this ship was apparently strange looking. His attire wasn't strange though. It was very casual. An open, button-up grey shirt over a dirty white shirt, holey jeans, and sneakers. Pretty normal.

He heard the rolling of wheels and turned just in time to see Donavan Wright roll out from underneath an apparently broken skyglider. His face had traces of oil on it, and his shades and his jacket had been removed; now just an oil-mottled white shirt covered his torso. As he stood, he dropped a wrench and a few other gadgets into a toolbox.

"That's one of the guys I escorted here earlier," he replied, brushing his hands on his shirt making it even dirtier than before. "Sorry, man, I didn't catch your name."

"Ben Tennyson," he introduced himself.

Donavan wiped his face with a dirty rag and shoved it into his back pocket. He offered his hand. "The name's Donavan Wright. That's Horatio Stellar."

Ben shook his hand and looked to Horatio.

The redhead smirked, "Call me Ray. So what you doing here, Ben?"

"Gabriel Sevin said I needed pilot training," he replied.

"Ole G7, huh?" Horatio said, "Well then. Looks like we're the top trainers on the list today, Don."

Donavan rolled his eyes with a grin on his face. "More like the _only_ trainers on the list."

**LlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLl**

After Gabriel Sevin (a.k.a. G7 as they soon learned) briefed them on the situation, basically a more detailed repeat of what he had written in the letters he had sent them, he showed them every scrap of machinery in the command center. He explained thoroughly how to operate both the alien hardware and software and what each different machine did.

Once all that was done, he sent them into the corridors and advised them to find their quarters and get a long rest before tomorrow. Of course, he had offered them an escort—more specifically, he had offered to personally escort them—but Nathan had assured him that he knew his way around the station (at least the deck on which all the quarters from the certain section they stayed at).

So now, Dexter was being led around the confusing maze of corridors by Nathan Conwell. He had to slow his meaningful pace because of the boy's limp and the fact that the crutch slowed the boy down. Dexter didn't really mind too badly. He was in no hurry seeing as now he was no longer the boss of operations. He was taking orders from Gabriel Sevin, the walking, talking, practically-breathing computer. According to said computer, there was nothing more Dexter could do until morn.

Both of the two boys desperately wanted to find a subject to keep their minds of the upcoming war. But there was a conflict—who would speak first? Dexter did not do particularly well talking to people he didn't know casually. Half the time, he did not do particularly well in talking casually period. Nathan, on the other hand, seemed rather friendly while at the same time shy. He welcomed company though, and that's what was important.

"What is Earth like?" Nathan brought up a random subject.

Dexter thought for a moment. "Earth is . . . very hard to explain. Presently, governments worldwide have united because of the war. I'm still trying to determine whether or not that is a good thing."

"Ah, I see," Nathan lied.

One of Dexter's orange eyebrows rose at him. "That did not sound very certain of you."

Nathan laughed a bit. "I study technology, my friend, not politics."

Dexter eyed him oddly. _'My friend?'_ Perhaps this was how he addressed everyone, but the redheaded scientist found the phrase rather peculiar. Not many people had ever referred to him as 'my friend,' in fact, hardly anyone had.

The subject was quickly changed. "What kind of accent is that you have?"

"I've been told it's Russian," Dexter replied, "I have never really noticed it though."

"Russian?" Nathan mused. "I'm guessing that Russian is a type people on Earth."

Dexter nodded, "Yes. And what of yours?"

"Mine?" Nathan raised an eyebrow, "I suppose it is Nirvein."

The redheaded scientist figured that Nirvein would be considered to be a very proper version of American-English on Earth. _Very _proper.

They came to a sudden stop in front of Room 3990. Nathan looked to Dexter. "Well, this is your accommodation. I'm assuming that I'll see you tomorrow."

"Same to you, Mr. Conwell," Dexter nodded as he placed his hand on a print-scanner beside the sliding door to his room.

With that, Nathan Conwell turned and limped down the long hallway towards his own quarters, and everyone's favorite redheaded stared after him with the oddest of curiosity. What a strange boy. Strange but friendly, Dexter admitted.

**A quick FYI, it you would like to know any history on any of the OCs in this fic, I'll be glad to either make a short fic about it or just docX you a rough draft. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Please tell me if you did in your reviews!**


	6. Learning on the Job

_**Chapter 6: Learning on the Job**_

"Safety Harness?"

"Buckled."

"Fuel?"

"Full."

"Repulsorlifts?"

"Activated."

"Rear thrusters?"

"Charging."

"Back up thrusters?"

"Fully functioning."

"PLC cannons?"

"Up and running."

"ELC cannons?"

"Ready for action."

"Emergency electron generator?"

"Online and ready for an emergency."

"All systems check?"

"All systems are a go."

A pause.

"Helmet?"

"Uh, helmet?"

"Tsk, tsk," Horatio shook his head. "When you get to the point where you're known as the best pilot in the galaxy, you don't have to wear the helmet if you want to risk the chance of having the oxygen sucked out of your cockpit. But on your first day of flight lessons, you're gonna want something to keep that big head of yours in."

He threw a white, dome-shaped helmet with a black-tinted visor and blue-tinted, retractable facemask into Ben's lap. Ben quickly put it on over his head, lowered the facemask and made sure that the hose that the oxygen flowed through was secured to the back of his head.

"But other then that, Ben, you're ready to get this starglider up off the ground."

"Ray, don't you need one?" Ben asked through the comm-link in the helmet that was transmitted directly to the earpiece in Horatio's headset.

"I'll be fine, kid. Now remember, ease 'er up gently. Not too much stress on the flight sticks."

Ben raised the small fighter off the ground gradually.

"Retract the landing gear."

Ben keyed in the command and the landing gear drew back into the underbelly of the craft.

"Good, now move 'er out of the Hangar Deck through the semi-permeable plasma shield."

The brunette eased the jet through the red energy field and watched as it passed undamaged through the shield that kept the oxygen in and the vacuum of space out of the Hangar Deck. He looked out the view port to see sparkling silver stars glittering in the black space. Not only did he see stars, but there were tons of little planets, each a different color. There were masses of colorful energy spread out across the darkness.

"Admire it later, kid. Learn how to work this baby and then you can admire the scenery all you want."

Ben shook himself out of his trance. Ray was right. He needed to focus if he was ever going to learn anything.

For hours and hours, Ray showed Ben the basics of space-flight. He basically familiarized Ben with the controls and common maneuvers. Soon, Ben was able to look as though he was a well experienced pilot with the maneuvers he performed. Of course, there was still combat flight. But Ben wouldn't start that until the next day. Ben learned a something about Ray's teaching skills. There were no simulations. He believed the best way to learn was by learning on the job. Though, considering the circumstances they were obliviously flying into, Ray would have to take the wheel.

They ventured deeper and deeper into outer space as Ben practiced. Something that successfully gained a jump out of both boys flew out before them like a speeding bullet and came to a sudden stop. A green, oozing starglider with a red tinted view port hovered before them.

Ray let out an overconfident laugh. "Ben, I think you can handle one of those Fusions. Can't you?"

The redheaded trainer had briefly run through the basics of the weapons systems with his trainee. Ben was about to say that he wasn't experienced enough to take one on, when the unexpected (yet apparently cliché) transpired. The ship split apart. Not once, nor twice, but three times. Eight Fusion Stargliders now surrounded them in an arc.

Ray's expression changed, a shadow falling over his face. "Switch flight controls me, Ben."

Much obliged, Ben complied, and Ray took his place as pilot. With such odds against them, there was no room for arrogance. Mr. Stellar apparently knew this well. He quickly changed swapped from proton generator to emergency electron generator seeing as these Fusions were well known for having ion cannons on hand.

He pressed a button on his earpiece. "Donavan, I've got a situation here. . . Yup, eight of 'em. I don't know how long I'll be able to hold out, so get your keister over here as fast as possible."

He turned his attention back to the Fusion Stargliders. "Eat laser, freaks."

Ray held down the firing buttons on the top of each flight stick and made a complete three-sixty. He then dipped down and surveyed the damage he had caused. Many Fusions had been hit by the attack. The ones that were badly damaged would simply fuse together and others that were not as badly harmed would simply not bother to repair themselves. Now, five Fusion Stargliders were facing them.

Curious to see if a plan that had suddenly popped into his head would work, Ray's grip tightened around the flight sticks, and he acted. With blinding speed, he jerked the ship forward several yards, passing directly between the Fusions. He repeated the action just at a different angle. Then, he did it again. And again.

Ben saw what he was doing. The Fusion Stargliders couldn't attack if they couldn't get a clear fix on their opponent. He imagined that this was taking a heck of a lot of power, and therefore Ray wouldn't be able to keep this up for much longer. It was just a matter of time.

Actually, it was a lot sooner than Ben expected that his little trick was ended. It happened when one of the Fusions decided to fly right out in front of Ray's starglider at the last second. The contact not only knocked both Ben and Ray's senses out of whack, but caused them to spiral out of control for a while. Once the cockpit ceased spinning, Ben cringed at what he saw. The thick glass of the view port had been cracked. The hissing of the escaping oxygen was as loud as the alarms in Dexter's laboratory to Ben. He could only imagine how much louder it was for the helmet-less pilot that was too far behind him for him to reach.

"Ray? You okay?"

"Yeah, Ben, I'm fine. For the next five minutes that is." Ray grimaced at the readings on the small monitor in front of him. An alarm lit the cockpit bright red, informing them of what they already knew. "I'm switching the controls back to you, Ben. Don will be here soon. I want you to focus on getting out of here, you hear me?"

"Loud and clear."

Ben glanced out the fractured view port. Several of the Fusion Stargliders had activated some sort of weapon and stars of red became visible as their weapons systems charged. Ray noticed it too. "Activate the deflector shields, Ben."

He made no argument. He quickly flipped the switches that initiated the frontal and rear deflector shields. Simultaneously, the Fusions opened fire. The blasts were not strong enough to penetrate the shields, but they were strong enough to hinder Ben from moving the ship in the direction he needed to. Ben squinted in the blinding red that peppered the shield above the view port.

Suddenly, bright golden beams returned fire on the Fusions. But it wasn't because of Ben. . .

"Hey, guys. Oh man, that's a pretty big scratch you got there on your view port. Tennyson, everything alright in there?"

"Not really, Don." Ben replied truthfully. "Ray's got less than five minutes of air left."

"Get out of here now! But be careful; if you go too fast with a crack like that, the view port will shatter and you guys will get a shower of glass."

"Understood." Ben acknowledged.

He pointed the nose of the starglider towards the headquarters and pushed the engines as far as he dared. He kept track of the seconds passing as he rushed back towards headquarters.

"Ray?" he asked after two minutes or so. "You still with me?"

"Yeah," came the feeble reply. "Don't rush too much. Don wasn't kidding about the glass shattering."

"I didn't think he was."

The massive headquarters was getting closer and closer. Three and a half minutes later Ben could almost see through the red, semi-permeable shield and into the Hangar Deck. So close. He hoped Ray would stay alive long enough for Ben to get him inside the Hangar Deck. He put a bit more stress on the engines and noted as the crack enlarged as he did such. Relieving the engines a bit, he gulped. His throat was bone dry. The anxiety was killing him.

Finally, over two minutes later, Ben passed through the red shield. The landing gear popped out, and he set the starglider down not-so-gently. He forced the dome-shaped roof of the cockpit up after ripping off his safety harness and removing his helmet. He whirled around to look at Horatio.

The redhead's eyes were closed and his face was pale. Ben quickly unfastened Horatio's safety harness and dragged him out of the cockpit.

"Horatio!"

Ben turned his head to see a ginger-blonde boy with round-rimmed glasses racing towards him, a blonde in a private investigator getup behind him. The brunette in the green and black jumpsuit set Horatio down on the floor gently. The ginger-blonde dropped on his knees beside the redhead. His hand flew to where Horatio's carotid artery was on his neck to check his pulse. The boy paled when he found nothing.

Making room for the other boy to get on his knees on the other side of Horatio, Ben took a step back. He felt terrible. All this happened because he didn't remember to bring his stupid helmet. What a dumb mistake! And now he had killed someone because of it.

The two boys before him shocked him with what they did next. The one wearing glasses unzipped the upper half of Horatio's red and black jumpsuit revealing bear skin. The one who looked like a private investigator in his brown hat, tan trench coat, and brown pants removed his brown gloves and rubbed his hands together. He separated his hands and placed his fingers about an inch apart from each other, and Ben noticed sparks fly from one finger to the next.

"Clear," the ginger-blonde said.

There was a zap, and Horatio twitched as the 'private eye' placed one hand on his chest and the other on his side. The three waited a moment. Sadly, Horatio didn't take a breath.

"Clear."

Again, a zap sounded. A pause. Still no breath.

The ginger-blonde frowned. "Clear."

After the third zap, there was a painful silence. And that's all there was. Silence. The glasses-wearing boy with grey-blue eyes hung his head. The blonde 'private eye' retracted his hands and stared with just as much shock on his face as he had been delivering. Ben's stomach churned and his heart felt as though a hand of ice had wrapped cold fingers around it.

Suddenly, Horatio's chest rose and fell. After a slight pause, it rose and fell again. The ginger-blonde jerked his head up. They all stared for several long moments in silent awe. Horatio's groan broke the thick silence. Slowly, he sat up and his hand flew to his head. He looked around at the three happily stunned faces around him.

"Hey, why does everyone look like they've seen a ghost or something?" Ray asked.

Ben smiled a bit. Sudden realization dawned on the both of them at the same time.

"Donavan!" Ray and Ben gasped.

Ray looked to the boy with glasses. "Gray, Don's out there facing five Fusions SG's last I checked. You up for a flight?"

Gray stood and held out a hand for Horatio. "Of course."

"Anything I can do?" the other boy asked.

"Me too?" Ben put in.

Ray shook his head as he zipped up his jumpsuit. "Nah, Gray and I've got it covered. Ben, you and Lee stay at headquarters. You're free to do whatever for the rest of the day."

Ben nodded and watched as the two raced off towards separate stargliders, both having only one pilot seat in the cockpit.

Horatio turned around before he leapt into his. "Hey, and Ben!"

"Yeah?"

"You might have a sub tomorrow."

With that, he plunged into the cockpit and lowered the dome-shaped roof.

_Oh, that's reassuring,_ Ben thought.

In a matter of seconds, the two had blasted out of the Hangar Deck faster than you could say "Fusions." Ben glanced at the kid who was standing beside him. He had just finished putting his gloves on and held out one gloved hand to Ben.

"Lee Daring," he introduced himself. "My hero-name's Laser."

He shook the hand. "Ben Tennyson. I've got ten hero-names."

"Right," Lee nodded, "I recognized you. You're that guy with the Omnitrix."

Ben raised his right arm on which the Omnitrix was a lumpy mass under the jumpsuit's sleeve. "That's me."

Lee flashed a lopsided smile.

"Well, um, what's with the snazzy uniform?" Ben asked curiously.

Laser looked down at his clothes. "I wear it to keep me from looking like a walking light bulb. You can't see it to well in the light, but I have a strong enough glow that I could light up a football stadium if I wanted too."

"Oh," Ben nodded. He looked back out at outer space through the red shield.

Lee said with a grin, "Now you can officially say you've met the Stellar Twins."

"_Twins?_" Ben repeated.

"Fraternal, of course," the blonde pointed out, "But twins none the less. Horatio and Grayson Stellar are pretty famous in Galaxy Beta. Just not in this era."

Ben looked even more confused.

Lee noticed. "They're from the future. They're parents live in this station and since they figured out how to build a time machine, they went back in time to help out with this war."

"Who are there parents?" Ben asked.

"No one knows for sure who their mom is, but everyone's for certain their dad is Ri Stellar," Lee informed. "Ray looks like a clone of his dad. Acts like him, and even has his fire-mutant abilities. Not to mention piloting skills." He lowered his voice to just above a whisper and added with an amused, sing-song tone, "Rumor has it Jone Aral's the mom."

Ben remembered Jone Aral from the conversation he and the recruits from Earth had had with her. He had to admit, the story of kids from the future was incredible. It seemed that people, kids particularly, from all around had come to help. That's what universal peril did. It brought people together. Whether from the future, from the present; from different planets, or dimensions; this war was bringing this miscellaneous group together. That could be translated as a good thing or a bad thing. But it really didn't matter how you translated it. Just what happened in the end.


	7. Inside the Cockpit

_**Chapter 7: Inside the Cockpit**_

When Jacen Tyner returned to Hangar Deck A-53 an hour later, he saw the same crowd of recruits that he had left, talking. Nicholas, Lisa, and Chloe were still there as well, waiting for his return. Anxiety hung about the air in a thick, invisible fog. He decided he might as well go ahead and direct them to where they ought to go.

"Alright, listen up," he began. "As you guys have probably already noticed, this place is pretty big"—largest understatement in recorded history—"and very confusing when you have no clue where you're going. Fortunately for you all, most of the people here know this place rather well. You'll be assigned someone to stay near. That someone will also show you around, help to train you, and protect you. I don't suggest you make enemies with that someone because no one's someone is getting changed; got it?"

He received several blank stares. Slowly, they started to nod feebly.

"Good. Now I get the honors of assigning you your someone," he said. Only a handful of recruits in the crowd caught the sarcasm in his voice. "You two in the back there"—he pointed to Gwen and Kevin—"you guys will be assigned to Ri Stellar and Jone Aral. They're the best of the best. You probably already know that Jone runs this show. I'll show you where to find them in a moment."

The supreme commander of the Galactic KND looked around. "Sector V, I'm placing you all under the authority of Squad-Leader Kaczynski, understood?"

Nigel Uno saluted him. "Sir, yes, sir!"

"And PowerPuff Girls"—Jacen turned his gaze to the three standing before Professor Utonium—"you'll be assigned to Alexandria Venus and Daniel Cooper. I'll show you to them as well."

Bubbles squealed with excitement, and Blossom smiled. Buttercup smirked and crossed her arms, favoring one leg. Professor Utonium looked to Jacen.

"I suppose that includes me," he stated.

"Actually—" he was interrupted by the door not three yards behind him sliding open and a slender young woman walking in.

"No, Professor, you'll be coming with me. I could use your assistance."

Jacen Tyner whirled around. "And you are . . . ?"

"Angel Meriwether," she replied, adjusting the white top to her professional-looking uniform. "I'm the chief attending physician. Or in simpler terms, the chief medical officer."

"I know what it means," Jacen snapped.

She ignored him and continued, "I could use your services, Professor. We are short on medical officers, and a war is about to erupt."

"Well," he glanced at his three creations. "If I agree to assist you, may I still see my girls?"

Angel nodded. "Of course. You will only be serving 24/7 if the circumstances demand such."

Blossom gave her father a nudge and nodded her head in Angel's direction, telling her father to go. A smile on her face told him they'd be fine. He smiled back at her then looked up to the medical officer.

"I accept the offer."

"Good." Angel gave a sharp wave of her hand, motioning for him to follow. "Come. You start immediately."

"Oh-?" He followed without question. It was an odd sight, the rather tall professor scampering after a fifteen-year-old blonde through the sliding door.

Jacen allowed himself to glare after the girl for a moment. Then he turned back to the group around him. Motioning to Gwen, Kevin, and the three super-girls, he said, "Alright, now if you five wouldn't mind—"

"Commander Tyner, sir," Nicholas interjected, stepping forward.

He suppressed an aggravated groan and looked to him. "Yes, Kaz?"

Nicholas took several steps towards him. "Sir, I needed to talk to you about one of my Ground Division Officers. Officer Peterson. _Wesley_ Peterson. Since the disappearance of his younger siblings, he is . . . emotionally compromised. I would like to ask that you don't give him any responsibilities until he regains control of his emotions."

Translated, Nick simply stated, 'Wesley's not himself because his little brother and sister are missing; could you give him time to get his head on straight?' Most everyone in the room was able to interpret his words.

Jacen's expression softened. The fleet admiral, also his best friend since preschool, was the eldest of his four siblings. While Wallis was helping the Gamma Agency transfer its equipment to G7's huge station, Wesley (a Ground Division Officer, more specifically a Division MS-US Officer) was flying towards the station with his younger brother (William, a cadet of only eight years of age) and his three-year-old sister (Willa) on board. He was attacked, boarded by the enemy after a blast from an ion cannon and the Fusions taking out his electron generator, and was knocked unconscious. When he awoke, his sister and brother were gone.

The leader of the Gamma Agency sighed, "Sure. Tell him that we're still searching."

Nicholas nodded. He walked back to his division squad and Sector V. Jacen walked towards the door on the left side of the Hangar Deck. Kevin and Gwen quickly followed, and so did Blossom and Buttercup. But Bubbles stopped and looked back to Nicholas who had his back to her. She held arms about her in a position that was thoughtful and empathetic.

She looked back to her sisters and muttered a soft, "Hold on."

Bubbles hovered into the air, trailing blue energy as floated up beside the squad leader. He looked up to her with a skeptical look on his face. "Um, can I help you?"

She smiled brightly. "Could I meet Wesley? I think I can cheer him up. That's what I do best!"

"Well, I don't see any problem with letting you try," he said. "I wish you luck."

She looked to her sisters. "I'll catch up later!"

**LlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLl**

Once Angel had familiarized the professor with all of the medicines, machinery, and other equipment in the impressive, huge medical laboratory, Angel allowed him to toy around with the computer a bit. Reluctantly, though. Then they received the urgent video message.

"Dr. Meriwether!"

She raced out in front of the monitor to see the image projected. Brushing back a lock of blonde hair, she asked, "Donavan, what is it?"

"It's Ray," he replied, a grim look on his face. "He was training one of the Earth recruits when a force of Fusion Stargliders ambushed him. He stalled until I showed up, but there's a leak in the view port. And Ray doesn't have his helmet. He's got less than four minutes of air and it's gonna take at least seven for Tennyson to fly him back to Headquarters."

"I certainly hope he knows how to regulate his breathing in a situation like that," Angel muttered to herself.

Donavan, who didn't hear, continued, "I contacted you because I have a feeling that by the time he reaches Hangar Deck B-47 that he'd have gone at least two to three minutes without air."

"Understood," she nodded, "I'll send a paramedic to Hangar Deck B-47 immediately."

He gave a short nod, "Affirmative."

The image on the screen flickered away, and Angel called, "Grayson Xavier Stellar! Front and center!"

In a matter of seconds, a ginger-blonde with black, round glasses stood before her. He wore a blue doctor's shirt and slacks. "Yes, ma'am?"

"I need you and the walking defibrillator to report to Hangar Deck B-47 straight away," she stated.

He nodded, and then questioned, "What for?"

"Your brother decided to forego a crucial flight-safety regulation and did not wear a helmet as he was training a recruit by the name of Tennyson," she replied. "The view port was fractured and now he's losing oxygen rapidly. Tennyson is flying him back to Headquarters but I'm afraid he'll run out of air long before he reaches the Hangar Deck."

Professor Utonium felt a pang of sympathy for the boy as Grayson paled at the mention of his twin. He nodded quickly and waved towards a boy, 'Laser' as he called him. This boy, dressed from head to toe in an age-old private investigator's uniform, was the 'walking defibrillator, the professor assumed.

Without another word the two raced out of the medical laboratory and Angel followed their movements by security cameras that she projected live footage on the huge monitor before them. Neither of the two slowed as they ran and they reached the Hangar Deck as soon as Ben Tennyson was dragging the unconscious, and possibly dead, ace out of the cockpit. Grayson shouted his brother's name and took action right away.

Patrick Utonium and Angel watched silently as the paramedic and electro-mutant attempted to revive the pilot by trying to jumpstart his heart. Utonium's face fell as it became apparent that they could not revive him. But then they all jerked their heads up and the pilot sat up after several painfully long moments passed.

Angel keyed in a command to add audio, and they listened.

The revived pilot said, "Gray, Don's out there facing five Fusions SG's last I checked. You up for a flight?"

Grayson stood and held out a hand for him. "Of course."

After only a slight bit of conversation, the two raced towards two separate stargliders and Ray called out to Ben, "You might have a sub tomorrow."

The professor failed to suppress an amused smile. Meanwhile, Angel switched the footage to live footage from inside the cockpits of the stargliders the twins had chosen. Professor Utonium was amazed at how much access she had to things in the space station. The screen was split, one side showing Horatio, the other showing Grayson.

The twins simultaneously secured their safety harnesses, put on their helmets, and lowered the facemasks. After doing a quick, standard check like the one Horatio had put Ben through, they flew out of the Hangar Deck.

"Horatio, do you by chance have the coordinates of where you left Donavan?" Grayson asked.

"Nah, but I remember what direction I flew in and for how long," he replied.

"Wonderful."

"You know all the flight schematics and maneuvers?" Horatio asked.

Grayson rolled his eyes, "I memorized the manual, Horatio. Of course I do."

"Just checking."

The more formal twin calibrated a few of the mechanisms on the control desk before him on which the camera that the medical staff were viewing him through.

"Gyro Maneuver?"

Grayson sighed and quoted, "'Cock the flight sticks and deactivate stabilizers temporarily, seemingly uncontrollable rotation disorients enemies.' Honestly, Horatio, if your going to quiz me choose a bit more challenging piece of material, why don't you?"

There was a slight pause.

"Slingshot maneuver?"

"'Partially circumnavigate around the atmosphere of a nearby dwarf planet or any other sort of miniscule object possessing a strong enough gravitational pull and use the pull of gravity to one's advantage to hurl back around and catch the enemy off guard,'" Grayson once again quoted from the manual. "Happy?"

"Almost. . . Hydro-Magneto-Carborator-Net-O Maneuver?"

The interrogative statement received an open-mouthed, blank stare from the paramedic. "You. . . You made that up!"

"Maybe." The image of Horatio smirked. "Then again maybe not."

He shook his head. "This isn't a time for games, Horatio. If I remember correctly, your friend Donavan is in need of our assistance."

That made the redhead snap into attention. "Right. We're coming up on his position. You can see the cannon fire from here."

"Your right," Grayson half admitted, half confirmed. "Oh my! Their numbers seemed to have doubled since your encounter with them."

Horatio's eyes narrowed and his grip on the flight sticks noticeably tightened. "Affirmative."

Professor Utonium was at a total loss for words. Sure, he had seen incredible acts performed fluidly by children during the Fusion war on Earth, but out here in space (one of the most dangerous frontiers known to man, alien, and beast), things, particularly odds, were much different. Yet the children that had been recruited for this war seemed to work as though trained professionals. The chief attending physician before him and the many ace-pilots on board this station were living proof.

The next series of events moved so quickly that the professor was hardly able to catch the words being spoken.

"Horatio, two on your right flank!"

"I see 'em!"

"Make sure you're using ELC only; that seems to work best on thesegrotesques."

"Yeah, I know. Hey, watch out! You've got a gang of 'em coming in on your stern!"

"I've got them!"

The image of Grayson was shaken and he winced and groaned as the cockpit apparently spiraled.

"Need a hand, bro?"

"That would be nice, yes."

After peppering the Fusion Stargliders which neither the professor nor chief attending physician were able to see with cannon blasts, Grayson commented, "There's no possible way for us to get to Donavan through this mess! What are there? Thirty of these Fusion freaks?"

"Oh, we'll get there alright."

"Horatio. . . What are you planning?"

"Something stupid enough it might work."

"What . . . ? Oh no, Horatio, you _can't_ be serious."

Ray's mouth formed a grim line, and he did not reply. Professor Utonium felt a growing sense of dread welling up inside him.

"Horatio? Horatio, I know what your thinking. Don't do it. I can assure you it won't end well."

A pause. The redhead revved his thrusters. Swiftly, Angel added box of footage to her screen. It was obviously the view that Horatio had of what was outside his view port.

_How many cameras are on those stargliders?_ The professor wondered.

They now had a clear image of what had suddenly given Horatio his grand determination. Donavan's starglider was swarmed. Completely. The Fusions were mercilessly firing blast after blast at the craft. It was obvious that Donavan's shields wouldn't hold out much longer, for he had resorted to conserving as much negative energy as possible to put into the shields by ceasing fire.

"Horatio, are you listening to me? You'll do more harm than good! Horatio!"

But there was no stopping him now. His mind was set.

"_Horatio!"_

**Dun, dun, duuuuun. Dramatic cliffhanger. I want to go ahead and mention that I got the idea for an ion cannon from a book that contained an ion cannon that seemed to knock out all positive, electrical energy so if that's not really what it does. . . eh, I can't think of much else to resort to. I hope you enjoyed this chap! Tell me in your reviews!**


	8. Get Out Alive

_**Chapter 8: Get Out Alive**_

The blood was rushing through the young pilots ears. His heart was pumping so fast it sounded as though an orchestra of base drums were playing a near impossible rhythm. He took a deep breath and tried again.

"_Horatio!"_

It was no use. Grayson's stubborn mule of a brother (though he had no room to talk seeing as he was just as stubborn) took action and Grayson's brain hardly had time to register what happened next. His brother's starglider literally disappeared. It wasn't unexpected though. Grayson had predicted that Horatio would try activating his starglider's hyperdrive motivator for a mere fraction of a second and then quickly disable it.

Such a stunt was beyond all forms of reckless and there was only a one in a million chance that the pilot performing said stunt would survive such a quick jolt. You see, traveling at the speed of light was a very complex concept and not one step could _not_ under any means be taken for granted.

First off, the entry into hyperspace must be gradual. Otherwise, the results would be devastating. Second, the ship must remain in hyperspace for at least five minutes. Third, the exodus must be just as gradual as the entry. Of course, gradual in terms of hyperspace was near thirty seconds. In total, that is six minutes suggested minimal time in hyperspace. But you must realize that Horatio was only in hyperspace for a portion of a second. And one more thing. When there are moving objects in front of you when you decide to enter hyperspace. . . Imagine something traveling as fast as light slamming into a train. Ouch. . .

Amazingly, Horatio just happened to be the millionth daredevil to try such a stunt. But Grayson did not know that.

His hand almost shaking, he reached for the comm-link activation button on the side of his helmet.

"R-Ray?"

"That wasn't too hard."

**LlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLl**

Professor Utonium didn't bother to stifle his sigh of relief, and he noticed that neither did the fifteen-year-old beside him. The redhead on the screen had remained intact the whole while they had been viewing him. That was good considering the circumstances. It didn't take long for Horatio to regain his slightly dazed senses and began firing multiple rounds of negatively charged lasers at the Fusions surrounding his friend.

Grayson was obviously having troubles of his own. Now on his own, he had to use several complex tactical drills to maneuver through the mesh of Fusions that blocked him from his brother and Donavan. He jerked on the flight sticks left and right, keying several commands into the control desk.

Apparently, Horatio was able to shoot down enough of the Fusions for Donavan to reactivate some of his other systems besides his deflector shields, for an image of him inside his cockpit appeared on the huge monitor as well.

"Thanks, Ray."

"No prob. 'Got your back, man."

"Now that you're all safe," Grayson grunted as something forced his starglider to jerk, "Do you mind assisting me? I'm having a bit of trouble reaching your coordinates!"

"Just do what I did, bro!"

The ginger-blonde rolled his eyes. "Horatio, I didn't receive my high school diploma at age thirteen just to do something as completely stupid as that. That was a lucky shot; I doubt it will happen again."

"Jealous," Ray joked.

"Hardly."

"Alright, guys. Cut it out," Don smirked.

Grayson said after a slight pause, "I'm going to try something."

"Try what?" Ray asked. "Remember, Gray, I was the one who inherited the talent of surviving crazy stunts."

"For your information, this stunt is performed with physics, not gut instinct."

Angel and Professor Utonium were left oblivious to what this stunt was as he flipped a few switches jerked the flight sticks backward then suddenly forward and apparently managed to end up beside Horatio and Donavan.

Donavan as he fired at the encroaching enemies around them grinned and congratulated. "Hey, that was kinda cool, Gray."

"Thank you."

Ray fired a few rounds at several groups of Fusions. "Luck."

"Jealous?"

"_No_."

"Typical."

"C'mon, guys. Stop with the bickering," Don smirked, "We're being watched."

Grayson raised an eyebrow over his lenses. Horatio stared directly at the camera. The twins asked simultaneously, "By who?"

He replied, "The chief attending physician. Gray's boss, no less."

The paramedic's face flushed as he failed at trying to hide his embarrassment. "Oh, this is wonderful."

Horatio smirked and waved at the camera. "Hey, doc!"

His brother's comment did not help Grayson's embarrassment in the least. "Dr. Meriwether, I—"

Angel grabbed a mike. The makings of a smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. "Don't worry, Grayson, I've actually been somewhat impressed. I didn't realize you were a pilot."

"Did I fail to mention that?" he asked shyly. "I'm a pilot, paramedic, the chief engineer, the—"

"The better question is what he's not," Don snickered.

Ray listed, "A jock, a chick-magnet—"

"Thank you for that, Horatio," Grayson said sarcastically.

"You're welcome."

Angel became the image of business again. "Alright, you three. Focus. I believe you all are still not free from those Fusion Stargliders. And Donavan, if my readings are correct you've got thirty-five percent of your power left."

"I can handle it, doc," he brushed of the statement.

Grayson keyed something on his control desk; Utonium assumed that he was looking at Donavan's readings, the same that the professor and Angel were currently staring at. He grimaced. "Doubtful, Donavan. We need to finish up here quickly, or else you'll run out of power and life support before we can get you back to the Hangar Deck."

"Affirmative, Dr. Grayson," Don acknowledged.

"Dr. Grayson? Heh, that's a new one," Ray snickered.

Grayson rolled his eyes. "Focus! It's amazing the two of you manage to get _anything_ done!"

"Cool it, Dr. Grayson. We've got everything under control," Ray assured him.

The paramedic suddenly paled. "Then how come they just split apart? _Again?_"

"Okay, _almost_ everything," the redhead corrected himself with a gulp.

Donavan retorted, "Twenty-four against three. C'mon, we got this, guys. Eight on one."

There was an intense moment of battle in which all three of them seemed to completely forget that they were just kids, and Professor Utonium was reminded of old fighter pilot moves. Some rather inappropriate comments were made as shots came too close for comfort.

"How many Fusions are left?" Angel demanded.

Grayson replied, "Fourteen."

"Hm," Angel mused. She gazed at Donavan's readings and watched the bar representing how much power he had remaining slowly drop. "Wright, I'm going to have to ask you to report back to the Hangar Deck. You have just barely enough power to make it back."

Donavan looked as though he wanted to protest.

"Don, no worries," Ray declared, "The Stellar Twins can handle this. If you wanna get out alive, ya better get to movin'."

He succumbed, "Fine, doc. You win. Ray, Gray, don't kill yourselves while I'm gone, 'kay?"

"It won't be intentional, I can assure you," Grayson said.

Donavan looked at the camera, "I'm heading back, doc."

**LlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLl**

Jone, Ri, Daniel, and Alexandria just happened to all be in the same place at the same time. It wasn't uncommon seeing as they were a group of close-knit friends that made up the organic half of the Robo Team (a well-known group of superheroes to Galaxy Beta). Jacen dropped off Gwen, Kevin, Blossom, and Buttercup and returned to whatever business it was that he had to attend. Meanwhile, Nicholas made his way, accompanied only by Bubbles, to one of the underused training centers where he knew he would find Wesley. Lisa and Chloe, followed by Sector V, reunited with Donavan in Hangar Deck B-47. And all was right with the world. . .

Not really.

Supreme Commander Jacen Tyner completely and totally forgot about one of his passengers who seemed to have wandered off as soon as they arrived in Hangar Deck A-53. But it was just one passenger. Nothing to worry about, right? Oh no, this one passenger was something to worry about. Not only was she the older sister of an important element in the war, but she was one to let her curiosity get the better of her.

DeeDee danced gracefully down the hall. She was very much so oblivious to the fact that she had wandered into one of the more . . . abandoned areas. Back before her arrival onto the station, a Fusion Starglider had just so happened to crash into the vicinity in which she was wandering. Jone and her three friends searched day and night for the Fusion that had come out of it. To no avail. You see, when a Fusion Starglider crashes or lands, out of the Fusion Matter from which it is made, a Fusion clone will emerge. And sometimes there wasn't just one.

The ballet enthusiast continued down the hall. With every bound, twirl, slid, tip-toe, and step she made her way closer to danger. Danger that just happened to be expected her.

Without warning, a pair of green hands reached out from behind. One grabbed her arm and twisted behind her back while at the same time, the other clamped over her mouth.

**DeeDee captured by a Fusion while Dex is busy helping command operations. Wonder how long it will take him to figure it out. Hours, days, weeks, months. . . Review please!**


	9. Get Acquainted

_**Chapter 9: Get Acquainted**_

Thirteen-year-old Wesley Peterson balled his fists and hurled a furious punch at the bag. It detached from the cord securing it to the ceiling and flew a few feet before crashing to the ground. Sweat matted his unruly blonde hair to his face, covering his emerald eyes, and he panted, his chest covered only by a white T rising and falling. His fists tightened and he then released the tension. His anger had been directed on just about every object in the training center (needless to say there were multitudes of objects in the training center) and now he was out of anger.

It was sorrow's turn to take control.

He sat, no collapsed, on a metal bench and held his face in his gloved hands, propping his elbows on his spread-out knees. Sobs never came, but the anguish was obvious as his breathing accelerated. Images of William, the whiz-kid of third grade, and Willa, the thumb-sucking toddler, tormented him no matter if his eyes were closed or open. The grief was tearing him apart. The last time he had lost his siblings, William had been shot in the leg with a pistol. That was merely on Earth, and a teenager had been the one to do it. He couldn't bear to think of what a Fusion in space would be capable of doing to his siblings.

Wesley wanted badly to be out there searching for William and Willa, but he was a Ground Division officer, not a Star Division officer. He had no clue how to fly one of those Stargliders.

A hand fell on his shoulder, causing him to jump. His hands dropped from his face, and he looked up to see a sympathetic face looking down at him.

"Any luck?"

Nick shook his head. "They're still searching though."

Wesley's face fell and he gazed at the floor.

"The supreme commander says he'll give you a break," the squad-leader informed. "So you can get your senses straight."

Any other time, Wesley would've jerked his head up and protested that he had not lost any of his senses. But he didn't this time. That's when Nicholas truly saw the full extent of the damage this incident had done to his officer. This was certainly not the Wesley he knew. He glanced over his shoulder and gave a short nod.

The next thing Wesley knew was that instead of staring at the floor he was staring at black shoes and white leggings. He looked up to see a rather perky blonde, girl standing before him. She beamed a friendly smile at him.

"Hi! I'm Bubbles!" she introduced herself.

Wesley's mouth fell open as if he were about to speak, but the words never came. Unable to respond to such a bubbly personality (pun not intended), he stuttered, "I . . . uh . . . I'm—"

"Wesley Peterson," she finished for him. "I know."

"Heh," he let out a slight sound that could be considered a nervous laugh.

Incredibly, his knees supported him as he stood. At full height, he was slightly disappointed to find that he was not any taller than Bubbles. Then he noted that she was hovering an inch off the ground. That gave him a bit of relief.

He looked at her sparkling, ecstatic blue eyes. Sparks were not flying, but something was obviously different to him. Especially inside his once rock-hard gut.

Nick took this awkward moment to make his exit. He smirked as he stepped out of the training center. _Good luck, Peterson._

**LlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLl**

As Jacen walked down the halls after dropping off the four in the shooting range returning to his usual business, he couldn't shake the feeling he had forgotten something . . . or someone.

**LlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLl**

"Whoa. . ." Kevin couldn't keep the awe out of his voice as he entered the shooting range. It was unlike any he had seen. It was about the size of several football stadiums lined up in a row, and it made up the outer edge of the station. He could tell by the fact that the ceiling about thirty yards overhead and the wall opposite the sliding door they had entered through were made of thick glass giving them all a perfect view of the beauty of outer space.

The room itself was cluttered with partially dismantled ships and alien weaponry and other gadgets of all shapes and sizes. Crates were stacked high in various areas filled with what one could only guess was top alien technology. In other words, it was Kevin's dream room.

Gwen let a smile show on her face at his contempt and wonder.

Blossom and Buttercup flew high into the air to get an aerial view of everything.

"Take cover!"

A raven-haired boy ducked down behind a crate holding a blaster in hand. Instantly, Kevin and Gwen squat down beside him. Blossom and Buttercup dove down using a partially dismantled starglider. The stranger spared a peek at the enemy from the side of the crate and fired three shots, golden lasers slicing through the air.

Green lasers returned the fire four-fold.

"Crud," he muttered.

He literally rolled out from behind the cover of the crate. He pointed the weapon at some enemy that neither Gwen nor Kevin could see. The makings of a smirk twitched at the edge of his mouth. But it quickly evaporated. A sudden, airborne blur knocked him of his feet and tackled him several feet away from the place he had been only seconds before. The four were able to see the person who had pinned him down by his arms.

It was a blonde girl with hair cut to her chin wearing a black and green jumpsuit loaded to the teeth with weapons, some visible, some concealed like his gold and black attire. Both of them wore glowing vests, only hers shined lime green and his gold. She placed the barrel of her blaster on his chest and fired.

Gwen openly gasped while Kevin's mouth opened.

They were relieved to see that the boy's vest merely lost its glow. Intergalactic laser tag. Unbelievable.

The girl stood up and held out a hand to help the boy to his feet. His olive eyes narrowed with a playfully competitive glint, "Rematch."

"Not happening," she giggled.

The two glanced towards the other side of the crates and dropped on their hands and knees. Overhead, a flaming figure swooped down and hovered not but ten yards away. Close enough for Blossom, Buttercup, Kevin, and Gwen to feel the heat radiating from it. They could make out the silhouette of a boy inside the flames.

"Not so fast, Fiery!"

A girl leapt down from atop one of the tallest towers of crates. A girl they all recognized as Jone Aral. A blue aura of energy coursed around her body as she landed gracefully on her feet as though she was surrounded by a thick, constant flow of electricity. They were obviously not playing the same game because neither of them wore vests nor were they armed with blasters.

She hurled blasts of blue energy at him and he dodged by propelling himself high into the air in a zigzag pattern. She flew into the air leaving a slight trail of blue energy behind and chased after the flaming boy.

The raven-haired boy mused aloud. "Mindorian verses fire-mutant. Hard to tell who has the upper hand. Close to impossible to be honest."

"This is never going to end," the blonde remarked. Then she locked eyes with Gwen.

The two seemed to notice for the first time that they were not alone.

"Oh—hi!" she smiled. "I'm Alex, and this is Danny."

The boy waved shyly. "Hey."

Blossom and Buttercup were the first on their feet—or hovering on them at least. Slowly Gwen and Kevin stood as well. After stating their names, realization flashed in Alex's eyes.

"That's right, you guys are the recruits from Earth," she said, "I'm guessing you were assigned to us."

"We were," Blossom said, referring to her sister and herself.

Gwen spoke up, "We were assigned to Jone Aral and Ri Stellar."

"Oh?" Alex looked up at the two battling figures that were now blue and red-orange blurs clashing in the sky. "Well, good luck waiting for them to come down." She turned her attention back to the recruits. "It's good to have you guys with us."

**Well, now that everyone has all been acquainted—or most everyone—it's time to say. . .**

**THE END**

**But don't worry, there will be many other fics (under the series title Galactic Fuse) to go along with this! **_**Many, many, many!**_** Review! And if you have any request plots or questions about the past/presents/future of any of these OCs, please ask in your reviews or PM me.**


	10. Allied Forces

_**Chapter 10: Allied Forces**_

_Control Center. . ._

Gabriel activated the intercom for the entire station. "Greetings. At o-nine-hundred hours tomorrow, representatives from each group of people will be gathering in the conference room and our discussion can be viewed live on Channel 7."

Once the intercom was deactivated, Dexter looked at the computerized boy with curiosity. "What is the purpose of such a gathering?"

"It has many purposes," Gabriel replied, "I need an educated estimation of our numbers, I also need to make sure several points that I have are understood, and afterwards, I need to see how many will still be willing to be a part of the Allied Forces."

"I see," Dexter and Nathan said in unison, unintentionally. They exchanged inquiring glances.

Nathan spoke up, "Will we"—he pointed to himself then Dexter—"be representing the recruits from our 'groups?'"

"No you two will be beside me," he shook his head. "I will not be representing my group—instead I'll be representing the Allied Forces."

"I thought that was Ms. Aral's duty," Dexter observed.

He shook his head. "She's representing the group I would have. Her great-grandmother was basically the founder of the Robo Team so she receives the honor of representing them."

"Do we represent groups according to planet, or according to team?" Nathan asked.

"Preferably team," Gabriel answered, "But if there is such a miscellaneous group from one particular planet, then you represent that group according to their home planet."

Dexter assumed that the recruits from Earth fell under that category without question.

**LlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLl**

_Mess Hall. . ._

Once the announcement was over, Lee glanced to Ben. "Who do you think is gonna be representative of the Earth recruits?"

Ben mused, pushing an alien species of beans on his plate with his fork. "Dexter, most likely. But if he can't or won't, then probably myself."

"Second in command, are you?" he asked, respect in his voice.

Ben nodded and grinned, "Yeah—something like that. What about the Lev'n recruits?"

"Oh, we're probably gonna have several representatives," Lee said, "There are too many recruits to represent with simply one. The Meta-Force"—Ben recognized the name for Lee had already mentioned that he was a part of that team—"will either be represented by Sparkwire or Nightshade."

The wielder of the Omnitrix had met so many people recently; it was hard to keep up with their names. So he questioned further. "Who are they?"

"Well, Nightshade is the brawns—Jessica Graham," Lee replied, "Sparky is the brains—Nathan Conwell."

The name was familiar. Ben wracked his brain to remember where he had heard the name Nathan Conwell. "Oh—I met Nathan in the control center."

"How'd you manage to sneak in there?" Lee asked, "I thought only super geniuses were allowed to go in there."

"I escorted Dexter."

The mutant nodded, rotating his drinking glass on his fingers. "I have a feeling quite a few tempers are gonna spark during that meeting. If Jack Fross is representing the Nega-Force, I have a feeling Jess would leap over the table and beat his face in."

A flash of amusement crossed through Ben's eyes. "What for?"

"Well, not only is the Meta-Force and the Nega-Force opposing forces on Lev'n," he started, "But Jessica has some . . . personal issues with him."

"I can imagine many people will have personal issues with others during that assembly," Ben noted, "I just hope we don't have a war inside Headquarters."

Lee let out a bark of laughter. He rose his glass. "To the Allied Forces."

Ben raised his as well. "The Allied Forces."

**LlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLl**

_Hangar Deck B-47. . ._

"I ain't ever been one for politics," Ray remarked, "but it looks like Gray and I will be representing the Robo Kids."

"Yay for you," Don smirked from underneath the broken starglider Horatio was sitting atop. "Wire cutters."

The redheaded ace of a pilot rummaged through the toolbox beside him, pulled out a pair of wire cutters and tossed them down to Donavan.

"Thanks," he said, picking them up. "Tyner will probably represent all of the Gamma Agency."

"All of 'em?" Ray asked, "Y'mean none of the Gamma Agency stayed behind or anything?"

"Not one," Don replied, "Any of the Robo Kids stay back in the future?"

Horatio shrugged and sighed, "Just our computer."

"I'll never understand you Robos and your computers," the pilot below laughed as he clipped a few wires, "What's yours called—G8?"

"G7 the 2nd actually," Ray corrected.

"I was close."

Horatio lay back on the roof of the cockpit and folded his hands behind his head. "Eh, whatever."

"What's wrong with you?" Don asked.

"Nothing," he sighed, "Just thinking about who else we left behind."

The pilot seemed to understand as he picked up a wrench beside him. "The bad guy?"

"Bad _guys_."

Donavan grimaced. "G7 the 2nd can handle it, right?"

"Sure hope so," Ray said, "Otherwise, the Robo Kids are going back to a broken home."

Placing two different, snipped wires close to each other to get a few sparks out of them, Donavan felt sorry for his friend. "No worries, Ray. I'm sure if G7 the 2nd's anything like the original the 'e can handle it."

"Mm."

Silence echoed off the walls, and the brunette under the starglider tried to simply focus on repaired the starglider. But his mind kept wandering, thinking about what Ray's home might look like whenever he went back—_if _he went back.

**LlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLl**

_The Medical Facilities. . ._

The odd thing about the Stellar Twins was that they seemed to think about the same things at the same time when they weren't together. Grayson's memory was taunted by the smug, green face of Toxin and the army of the Toxic Society behind him. G7 the 2nd would not be able to handle so many numbers if Toxin planned to attack while the Robo Kids were gone.

"Grayson, are you having a bit of trouble focusing?" Dr. Meriwether demanded. "Because we don't have room for that here."

He shook his head quickly and reentered reality.

"Now as I was saying, I would like you to be in charge of Professor Utonium," she said. "Help him find his way around here and make sure he knows what he's doing in this laboratory."

Grayson locked eyes with the slightly younger girl. "Understood, Doctor."

"Good." She looked up to the tall professor. "I'm leaving you with my most trusted paramedic, is that understood? Get him killed, and I will be forced to take action." The professor couldn't hide the humor in his eyes as she looked back to her 'most trusted paramedic. "If you need me, I'll be working on testing the medicines in the room several doors down."

Angel turned on her heal and marched towards the door. She spared a final glance at the sixteen-year-old. "And Grayson-?"

"Yes?"

"Don't need me."

With that, she left. Grayson ran his hand through his thick, ginger-blonde hair and let out a sigh that held many mixed emotions.

"Charming," the professor noted.

"Isn't she?" Grayson concurred with equal sarcasm. He shook his head. "Well, Professor, do you have anything specific that you need me to go over?"

"Not at the moment," he admitted.

Grayson looked him in the eye. "Dr. Meriwether familiarized you with the medicines and medical instruments in this laboratory."

He nodded.

"She informed you of the ranks in this particular facility."

"Yes," he replied, "She's first in command, your second, and Circuit is third. Everyone else is not ranked, but certainly of lower authority."

"She told you that the Gamma Agency's medical facilities are on the other side of this station."

"And not to be associated with. Does she have a rivalry with them by chance?"

Grayson shook his head, "No, but she doesn't believe that they were educated enough in the medical field to be considered doctors and nurses of the Gamma Agency. . . She showed you where the mind wiping equipment was."

Patrick Utonium's eyes noticeably widened, "Mind wiping equipment? The Dr. Meriwether is permitted to use that?"

"Luckily no," Grayson allowed a tired smile to appear on his face. "Since Angel has apparently shown you around the laboratory already, I suppose I ought to show you the places outside the med lab. This _is_ my break."

"Oh-! Am I taking away from your break?"

Grayson dismissed the statement with a wave of his hand. "No, no, no. My break just started. I have a hover car parked out front; is there any particular place you would like to view."

"I'm not familiar enough with this station to be able to answer that question."

The boy's hand fell on the beeper attached to his slacks as he thought. Then it dawned on him. "I have the perfect place in mind."

Professor Utonium followed him out of the hall that led to various divisions in the medical facilities and into an indoor parking lot. The cars were hovering and without wheels. None of them had a roof either. Grayson led the professor to a hover car that appeared to be plated with mercury, though that was impossible. It had a single glass windshield and two rows of seats. It was compact enough to fit down the halls, still giving people room to go around him, and roomy enough to be comfortable inside.

As Grayson sat himself in the driver's seat, the professor went around to be seated beside him. He appeared a wee bit nervous, and the paramedic noted.

"Don't worry, Professor, I do have a driver's license."

The professor was not worried of his abilities to drive the hover car but simply on edge about the hover car itself. He had never laid eyes on such a piece of machinery, and it was of course a bit nerve wracking to be seated inside one for the very first time.

Once Grayson had pulled out of the parking lot and was making his way down the wide halls, Professor Utonium quizzed, "Where exactly are we going?"

"You'll see."

**LlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLl**

_Top floor of the space station_

And he did.

Professor Utonium's spine stiffened in awe. It was beautiful.

The uppermost level of the station (which was trillions and trillions and trillions of miles wide and doubled long) was a civilization. Trees, grass, lakes, houses, and anything else you could imagine. The ceiling was made of thick glass to give the citizens a view of space and panels running on some sort of alien alternative power source lit the area.

Grayson leaned on the balustrade of the balcony and looked down below. His hover car was parked at the entrance of what led into the railed ledge.

"It—It's amazing," the professor managed.

The boy smiled slightly. "Yes, it is beautiful, isn't it?"

"Magnificent," Utonium concurred.

The professor neared the railing to get a better view.

As he did so, Grayson sighed. "Beautiful, it may be, but there is a sad story behind it."

"What do you mean?" Patrick Utonium questioned. The perplexity plain on his face.

"This area houses those whose planets could not withstand the Fusion attacks. Or at least those whose citizens managed to escape. Earth and Lev'n were not the only planets to be attack by the Fuse, but they were the only to survive."

The professor felt his heart reach out to those who lived in the huge, simulated nation. It was horrid to imagine what they must have gone through, family they must have lost. If these were the only survivors of Fusion attacks across the galaxy, then things were extremely bleak. Yes, it looked like multitudes from where the professor stood, but there were no where near enough to fill several planets.

"I come here to remind me of what I'm fighting for," Grayson said, "When I return home, I want it to be as I left it. I don't want a single trace of these wretched Fusions on Astervoid, and I'm positive my brother's feelings are mutual."

Professor Utonium felt sudden motivation. He wanted the same. Not a trace of Fusion Matter in Townsville. Not even the smallest of bits.

Sure this place was beautiful and obviously amazing advancements in technology, but Professor Utonium did not plan on living in something along the lines of this. After this war, he _was _going home. And he _was_ going to bring his three daughters home with him. Nothing would become of his girls or his home he was still able to prevent it.

"Will these people fight?" he asked.

"Those who are able," came the simple reply. "Many are injured. Some will never recuperate. Others it will take years to gather their wits."

**LlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLlLl**

_0900 hours, Assembly Chamber. . ._

The table was huge, beyond all belief. Sure it was only a bit wider than the halls of the Allied Forces of Galaxy Beta's Headquarters, but it was several hundred yards in length. Gabriel Sevin stood tall and unmoving at the head of the table, Dexter and Nathan at his side. Through his abnormally thick lenses, Nathan's hazy brown eyes darted around the room at the multitude of representatives.

Dexter was finding it hard to believe that the teams and groups these people, mainly teenagers, were representing did not even make up half of the recruits in the huge space station they stood in. Gabriel was representing the original group of the Allied Forces. The group that had gathered to monitor the Fusion Menace as months passed and they gradually clicked into place around Galaxy Beta. The minority of the representatives were aliens of all shapes, sizes and colors. But mainly, there were humans, or humanoids. There were quite a many adult military general that appeared to lead armies of their own, which could prove very beneficial for the Allied Forces if they agreed to help.

The redheaded scientist's reaction was not like Nathan's shy and astonished reaction. He stood firm like Gabriel. Spine as straight as a metal rod, face emotionless and unreadable. His gaze slowly looked from face to face gathered around the unrealistically large table. He discovered a familiar face.

Ben Tennyson cocked his grin and raised his eyebrows in a silent, 'Hey, Dex, how've you been?'

Dexter gave a slight nod to show that he had seen his friend, but his expression remained unchanged. This was business. And there was no room for childishness.

Gabriel raised his grey gloved hand and silenced the wave of whispers that had rushed through. "Thank you all for attending. As most all of you know, I am Gabriel Sevin, the computer that runs this space station you're standing in. I called forth this meeting to get several points across."

There was another rush of whispers, and he balled his raised hand into a fist. Several noted this and they elbowed those around them to shut them up.

"What is going on?—you ask," he said, "The Fusion Mass is what is going on. Planets of green substance that Fuse together with whatever they come in contact with and corrupt it are positioned all over the border of Galaxy Beta."

Another wave, quickly silenced by his sharp bronze glare.

"What are they doing?" he spoke their thoughts aloud. "Each and every one of them are on a collision course with each other at the very center of Galaxy Beta which just so happens to be the center of the universe and where this station is located. By the time the multitudes of Fusion Planets collide, every single planet in Galaxy Beta will have merged with the Fusion Mass and so will have this station. The Fusion Mass will be so gargantuan it will be the size of seventy thousand solar systems and will have a gravitational pull so strong that it drags every object in the universe, every star, every planet, every speck of dust into it. Mass extinction."

There was a flood of gasps that crashed down upon the table.

Gabriel raised his voice that was already being broadcasted over the speakers hanging from the ceiling. "That is why we must fight. To prevent the Fusions from taking over the universe and slaughtering us all! I must know if you all plan to offer as much services as physically possible until you are unable. I know the odds seem impossible, but you must trust that I can supply you with anything you may need. Provisions, weapons, and the ultimate weapon that will destroy these Fusions. I am currently constructing this ultimate weapon, and it will soon be ready to end the Fusion Mass's reign of terror."

Their reaction was unsettling. There were no longer whispers or gasped, but voices raised some in protest, some in confusion, and some in utmost refusal. The roar of the crowd was becoming unbearable. Dexter could image how mortifying it could have been for many to know that this was being broadcasted live throughout the space station.

A series of loud blaster fire caught everyone's attention. Everyone was soon seated, hoping to prevent a massacre. Dexter recognized the sixteen-year-old standing on top of the long table as one of the Stellar Twins he had been hearing much about. The boy's blaster was drawn from the holster on his belt and pointed at the ceiling, the barrel smoking. His lightly tanned face was plainly irritated.

"Will you people _shut up?"_ he demanded.

The people shut up.

The Stellar Twins were rather famous throughout Galaxy Beta, particularly this one. Horatio Isaac Stellar was known for the couple years he had spent in the black market, bounty hunting, smuggling, and other such business from ages twelve through fourteen. He was a very dangerous young man to put it bluntly. A bit laid back nowadays was he, but that did not mean that he couldn't turn back to the dangerous teen he used to be.

"Now I don't know a thing about stinkin' diplomacy, but I do know a thing or two about stuff like this," he said, holstering the blaster but keeping his hand resting on it, "G7's right. We _hafta_ fight! If we don't, it's just like saying, 'I wanna be killed!'"

No waves of whispers. Just astounded stares and gaping mouths.

"Now I'm gonna fight till there ain't any breath left in this body," he said, "And if I die, I have a feelin' it'll be 'cause I got shot down by some stinkin' Fusion. But if it's 'cause you people wouldn't stand up beside me and fight, I'm gonna make sure your eternal rest isn't gonna be so restful 'cause I'm gonna be eternally pissed! Do I make myself clear?"

After a silent pause in which there was no movement, many slowly nodded.

"Alright, then," he smirked. "Now, I'm gonna go out there and fight to the bloody end!"—he threw his fist in the air—"Who's with me?"

Shouts were heard as other fists were thrown into the air in a unanimous huzza.

Horatio looked to Gabriel. "Well, G, you got yourself an army."

Gabriel permitted a small smile to form at the corner of his lips. He closed his eyes and gave a short nod of approval and thanks. Dexter noted that even Grayson Stellar looked at his brother with a new respect.

During the commotion, Nathan and Dexter exchanged glances. The redheaded, young scientist's expression read, 'What on Earth just happened?' while at the same time read, 'Is this really how they solve things here?'

Amused, Nathan smiled and shrugged.

Dexter sighed and looked back to the redheaded boy who had settled the negotiations. He had to admit, though the ace of a pilot operated on gut-instinct and sudden impulses, that Horatio had done quite an excellent job at winning the crowd. Thoughts wandered into the scientist's large mind. Were there enough? Were all their efforts going to be in vain? What was this weapon Gabriel had spoke of? He had never mentioned anything about an ultimate weapon of sorts to neither he nor Nathan. What next?

**I believe this is a good place to say . . .**

**THE END!**

**Don't worry, there will be continuations of this story under the series title of Galactic Fuse. You are guaranteed! If you want any particular life stories of any of these characters (instances in their past/present/future) or want to request a specific continuation to elaborate on, feel free to ask in your reviews!**


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